


Coffee House Rules

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Caffeine Addiction, Coffee Addict, Coffee memes, College/Coffee Shop AU, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Tim loves his coffee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 27,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9892166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Tim ignores them all. Coffee doesn’t ask silly questions. Coffeeunderstands.





	1. Coffee…because I can count the number of hours I slept last night on one hand.

**Author's Note:**

> A series of drabbles (or what passes for a drabble from me) based on coffee memes and Tim's caffeine addiction.

Tim stares blearily at the coffeepot, waiting what seems like forever for his first pot of the day to finish. His eyes feel gritty and there’s a disgusting taste in his mouth that makes him wonder when the last time was that he brushed his teeth. 

Behind him, someone makes a comment and another person laughs. He ignores them and _waits_. 

“Pretty sure that coffee pot isn’t going to fill faster if you stare at it, Timmy.” It takes a moment before Tim’s able to place a name to the voice. _Dick._

“What is that saying about a watched pot?” _Damian._

“How much sleep did you get last night?” _Bruce._

He ignores them all. Coffee doesn’t ask silly questions. Coffee _understands_. The machine makes a soft _ping_ and Tim has his mug in hand and picks up the pot to start pouring. The first cup is always black because he can’t think straight enough to do anything to it until the second cup. 

Tim blows gently over the top of the hot liquid and takes a small sip. Again. And again. He pads across the kitchen ( _huh, the Manor; explains the peanut gallery_ ) to take his normal spot in the breakfast nook in the corner. A plate of food is pushed in his direction, but he ignores it in favor of his coffee. 

“How much sleep did you get last night, Tim?” Bruce asks again, this time with a hint of _concern_. 

Coffee and life bringing caffeine starts to flood Tim’s veins and his brain is finally able to register the question. He holds up a hand, fingers spread wide. “What time is it?” he asks instead of answering. 

“Five hours? That’s good for you,” Dick tries but Tim gives him an exasperated look. 

“What time is it?” he asks again.

“It’s just after 8,” Damian helpfully supplies the information Tim is asking for. 

Fingers start to fold down as Tim counts backwards. His index finger and thumb are quickly the only fingers left up. “What day is it?” 

Next to him, he hears Dick groan. “ _Timmy_ …” he says while Damian snickers. 

Bruce sighs and carefully wraps his large hand around the one Tim’s using to hold his coffee mug. “Tim, let go,” he orders quietly. 

Tim resists and there’s a bit of a struggle, but he’s still too tired to do much damage, so Bruce inevitably wins. “Eat those eggs,” he orders as he gets up and takes the coffee mug with him. 

“But…coffee,” Tim whines and turns on the puppy-eyes instinctively, turning them on the closest victim. Dick’s still sitting next to him. 

A hand gently pats him on the head. “Come on, Tim. Open up.” 

Tim expects coffee and gets eggs instead. He makes a face, but chews and swallows. Grabbing the fork, he stabs the eggs himself and shoves another forkful in his mouth. The need for food suddenly overtakes the need for coffee and Tim finishes quickly. 

“Can I have my coffee back?” he asks more coherently now that his stomach is full. 

“No,” Bruce says firmly. “Go back to bed, Tim.” 

“But…” 

“I can go to the office without you today. Go _back to bed_.” Bruce’s voice starts taking on his Batman growl. 

“I can do it, just give me some caffeine,” Tim insists stubbornly. 

“I poured the rest of the coffee down the drain and hid the coffee beans.” 

Tim’s eyes widen in horror. “You’re a sick, sadistic bastard.” 

“And that was too coherent of a sentence, Timmy. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” Dick somehow maneuvers Tim up and out of his seat. 

Tim allows it, but doesn’t take his eyes off Bruce, expressing the full force his feelings of betrayal over the man’s actions. As Dick leads him out of the kitchen, Tim starts muttering. “Coffee monster. He _poured_ the _coffee_ down the _sink_. What did the coffee ever do to _him_?” 

“More like what it does to you. Let’s see if you can get more than two hours of sleep, huh?” 

“Sleep is for the weak,” Tim replies as he tries to brush off his oldest brother’s grip. “What day is it again?” 

Dick sighs as he all but drags the still resisting Tim up the stairs. “Tuesday. When was the last time you slept for more than a couple hours at a time?” 

“Uh…” Tim tries to think back, but everything is a blur. It’d be so much better if _Bruce_ hadn’t _poured_ _his coffee down the drain_. And where was Alfred in all this? 

“I see the brain to mouth filter has completely eroded, Master Timothy,” Alfred’s voice says from down the hall Dick is leading him down. “I’ve been making your bed with some fresh linen and ensuring there is no…contraband in your room.” 

“Did he have any energy drinks in his bag?” Dick asks, ignoring Tim’s struggles. 

“Yes, and they’ve been disposed of, as well as the ones I found in the closet, the desk, and the hidden space behind the bookcase.” Alfred gives Tim a disapproving look. 

In turn, Tim tries to go for wide-eyed innocence, but fails under the butler’s firm glare. “Fine,” he all but pouts as they enter his room. “I’ll go to sleep. But only under protest.” 

“Duly noted, sir,” Alfred replies dryly as Dick helps Tim into bed and pulls up the sheets. 

Tim huffs a deep sigh and glares at them both before he shifts around a bit, trying to get comfortable. He closes his eyes, convinced he'll be wide awake in an hour or two.

To the relief of Dick and Alfred, as well as Bruce when Dick texts him later, Tim's out for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the list I have with different coffee related quotes and memes...let's just say this isn't going to end anytime soon. I'll update as the muse strikes. :-)


	2. Part One: I’m waiting to see if my coffee chooses to use its powers for good or evil today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Addie_Lover_of_Stories...because Tim's a little shit.

“Replacement.” 

“Shhh…”

“Replacement, come on,” Jason chides and tries to manhandle Tim off his sofa. “You’ve had your damn coffee, now get up off your ass and _help_ _me_ like you said you would.” 

“Shhh…” Tim leans back into Jason’s lumpy sofa and relaxes, his face taking on an almost zen-like quality. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“I’m waiting to see if my coffee chooses to use its powers for good or evil today.” Tim cracks open a blue eye and peers at Jason. “What exactly did I agree to help with? Last night’s a bit foggy.” 

Jason lets out an exasperated sigh and is reminded yet again of why he hates dealing with his family. “Considering you were about to fall flat on your face from exhaustion, I’m not surprised. You said you’d help me break into the Russian mob’s new headquarters so I could find out where those gun shipments are coming in from and put a stop to it.” 

The zen-like look is replaced by an absolutely devilish grin that Jason didn’t think his Replacement was capable of. “Will there be an explosion?” Tim asks, blue eyes flashing in excitement. 

“As many as you want if you can get my ass in and out in one piece,” Jason promises with a cocky grin of his own.

Tim nods decisively. “Good with a side of explosives. Challenge accepted.”

 


	3. Coffee cannot fix this kind of tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say I can commiserate with Tim right now.

Tim walks into his apartment, and immediately faceplants onto the cushioned sofa. He doesn’t care that his suit jacket is going to get wrinkled if he doesn’t take it off soon, but his feet are screaming for freedom from the confines of his leather dress shoes, so he tries, unsuccessfully, to toe them off. Moaning in frustration, Tim grabs one of the throw pillows and holds it tightly, fingers clenching so tight that his knuckles turn white. 

He’s so tired. His body aches and there’s been a constant pounding in his head all afternoon. He knows he has a caffeine addiction so he dutifully tried plying himself with a cup of _good_ coffee from the shop just down the street from WE in a vain attempt to appease the caffeine monster that rules in his brain. Even that failed. 

Sighing, Tim lets go of the pillow and sits up, taking off his jacket and laying it over the back of the sofa and bends over to unlace his shoes. Those he kicks under the coffee table. He leans back into the welcoming sofa and rubs a tired hand over his face. 

The calm and quiet of his apartment are lulling and Tim soon finds himself jerking awake out of a light doze. He glances over at the clock under his TV and grimaces. It’s times like these that he hates being a responsible adult. He chuckles darkly at the thought. Almost his entire life, he’s been the responsible one. The dependable one. The one that everyone underestimates and underappreciates. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Jason’s whispers that he should just take a break from it all, even for a night, just to see if anyone _notices_. 

Tim glares at the TV and, for a moment, wants to smash it to pieces. That’s a basketful of issues right there that he doesn’t want or need to deal with right now. Or ever. But, Tim muses as the urge passes, taking the night off isn’t necessarily a bad idea. He’s at the point where he knows even coffee cannot fix this kind of tired. 

There’s another, more silent voice, in his mind that never really says anything but just _looms_ and sighs dramatically at certain decisions he makes. Tim gives that voice a silent _fuck you_ as he gets up, grabs his jacket, and heads into his bedroom to undress. The suit gets tossed into his hamper. He doesn’t care, that’s what the dry cleaners are for. 

A warm shower later and dressed in a pair of comfortable sleep pants and an old black t-shirt with a red S-shield on the front, Tim walks into his kitchen. He stares at his coffee pot for a moment before turning away to go through his takeout menus. Something else warm and comforting is on the menu tonight. 

Order placed, Tim returns to the living room with a large bottle of water and turns on his TV. He doesn’t want to be sucked into a video game before his food arrives, so he puts on a movie instead. Taking a large swig from the water, Tim pulls the soft, dark blue afghan from the back of the sofa and over his shoulders, curling up so his bare feet are covered. 

He dozes again, only to be woken by his pho and order of spring rolls arriving. Tim eats and watches as Indiana Jones rescues his father from a castle controlled by Nazis. Before long, Tim’s stomach is full, his body no longer aches, and the pounding in his head has lessened significantly. He slumps over and falls asleep just before Indy traverses the three traps in the grail temple in his quest to save his father. 

******

Several hours later, a darkly clad figure makes his way into Tim’s apartment. The lights are off, but the TV is still on, though Netflix is asking of the viewer is still watching and wants to continue, casting a blue glow over the room. Batman looks over the back of the sofa and spots Tim, stretched out with his feet poking out from under the blanket and in a deep sleep. 

Bruce reaches over and pulls the afghan down over Tim’s feet, tucking it in securely before he takes off one of his gauntleted gloves to lay the bare hand carefully against Tim’s forehead. Satisfied that his son doesn’t have a fever he slips the glove back on and reaches for the remote to turn off the TV. 

He gives Tim one last assessing gaze before disappearing into the night.


	4. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe coffee is addicted to me?

Tim stares incredulously at the people in his kitchen. He’s been up for almost two days straight now and doesn’t have _time_ to deal with this. Or them. 

“Tim,” Bruce starts solemnly from his place at Tim’s small dining table. He looks ludicrous sitting there in full costume, even with the cowl pushed back. “This has got to stop.” 

“What does?” Tim asks crossly as he glares at Dick. He’s blocking access to the coffeepot. There’s fresh coffee there, he can _smell it._

“All of this!” Stephanie gestures wildly from where she’s perched on the countertop next to Dick. Tim’s pleased to see she almost hits Dick in the face with her gauntlet from the movement, but the man simple leans back slightly to avoid it. “You’ve got a problem, Tim!” 

“With what, exactly?” he snaps back. “We’re all workaholics, so what?” 

Dick chuckles. “That’s not entirely what this is about,” he says with a wry grin. 

“Then what is it about?" 

Even with his mask on, Damian’s eye roll is readily apparent. “And to think people call you a genius, Drake.” 

Tim gapes a moment as it suddenly hits him. “This is an intervention.” 

Damian smirks as the rest of his family nod seriously. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet,” he comments snidely. 

Jason uncrosses his arms and shakes his head. He’s been a silent and somewhat imposing figure off to the side, keeping a weather eye on Bruce and Dick for the most part. “I don’t know why you dragged me into this. Replacement’s not going to stop drinking coffee just because you give him a slap on the wrist.” 

Bruce glances at Jason, but otherwise disregards what he’s said. “Tim, you have an addiction… a serious one.” 

“I do not! Have you ever stopped to think that maybe coffee is addicted to _me_?” Tim shoots back. 

He knows he has them when Dick and Stephanie both try and fail to hide their laughter. Jason doesn’t even try to hide his while Damian looks utterly appalled. 

“Tim…” Bruce tries one more time, but his third son shoots him down again. 

“Bruce, I don’t have a problem with caffeine. I have a problem without caffeine. What part of this don’t you get?” 

As the room breaks out into snickers, Bruce shakes his head, knowing he’s lost this battle to Tim’s sleep-deprived, but still sharp wit.

 


	5. My birthstone is a coffee bean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleep, wherefore art thou sleep?

Tim’s not sure how he’s been roped into going shopping with Stephanie. These things seem to happen to him most often though after he’s gone without sleep for two or three days, so he supposes there’s a correlation. That, or he needs to check his security feeds more closely to see if Steph is stealing his phone and adding this to his calendar without him knowing. He wouldn’t sneak it past her. 

“Oh, this one’s pretty!” 

They’re wandering through the jewelry department of some overpriced store Tim knows for a fact that Stephanie would never even go to unless she’s with someone with a black card. Not that she makes him buy anything for her, but he’s been known to indulge her if she goes back to look at something three or four times. After knowing her for so long, he knows her tells and she only does that when she _really_ likes something. 

It would be annoying if Tim didn’t also know it’s totally unconscious on her part. 

He glances down at the display case the beautiful blonde is looking at and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s some overpriced crap that tastes burnt from a shop that _claimed_ to be a coffee shop on the first level of the shopping mall. He’s been debating about hacking into their inventory records just to see where the atrocious coffee comes from so he can take down the manufacturer for their crimes against his favorite beverage. 

“They’re pretty, I guess.” Tim shrugs nonchalantly. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes affectionately. “You’re such a typical man sometimes.”

“Thank you?” 

Laughing, she points back at the display case. “Most birthstone jewelry is crap, but these have some actual design to them. Like this one,” she points to a delicate, yet intricate piece of silver with an amethyst in the center. “That’s different and is something I’d actually wear.” 

“Is this is a hint?” Tim asks as he suppresses a yawn. 

“Of course not,” Stephanie scoffs. “I may love most things purple, but I do draw the line at purple jewelry. Besides, that’s not even my birthstone.” 

“September is what?” 

“Sapphire!” She says it so excitedly that Tim is slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm. 

“I’ve never seen you get excited for anything blue,” he replies. “Except maybe the first time you met Dick.” The reference to Nightwing’s blue fingerstripes went unspoken, but Steph snorts in laughter anyway. 

“Kinda hard not to with Dick’s…everything.” She turns back to the display case. “Do you even know what your birthstone is, Mr. July?” 

Tim takes another sip of his burnt-tasting coffee and replies dryly. “My birthstone is a coffee bean.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what month Steph's birthday actually is, so September it is (since February seems so cliche with her love of purple).


	6. My Precious

"Tim, give me the mug," Dick coaxes. 

"No," Tim replies stubbornly and holds it tighter. 

"Timmy, little brother, you've had enough." 

"Never." Tim hunches over as he clutches the coffee mug to his chest. 

Dick sighs and runs a hand tiredly through his hair. He's been at this for ten minutes already. Time for a new strategy. 

"If you give me the mug, I'll bring you a sandwich." 

"No! My precious..." Tim practically hisses as he starts caressing the mug. He's tucked himself into a corner of the living room at this point, his blue eyes gleaming brightly. 

From across the room, Damian snickers as Dick just gapes. "He's too far gone for reasoning, Richard." 

_Desperate times call for desperate measures._ Dick turns his attention back on Tim. 

"Tim, you've been drinking decaf for the last two hours." 

Tim lets out a wail of despair and betrayal. Only Dick's lightning fast reflexes keep him from being beaned in the head by the coffee mug his cowering brother throws at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse. :P


	7. Listen, before I had my coffee, I didn't know how awesome I was going to be today either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh...coffee drabbles meets Tuesday Nights. It was bound to happen eventually!

_From the Tuesday Nights 'verse_

 

Jason's been working hard all night. It's what he does, he's used to it. He's on his feet, running back and forth between bar and kitchen, and only gets a chance for a breather when 10 o’clock rolls around and he can say _nope, no more food for you_. 

So what Tim does in the corner booth all evening boggles his mind. He's busy doing _something_ on his laptop and later on, he's got not one, but two tablets propped up in their special cases. His long fingers fly furiously over the keyboard on the laptop, quietly clacking away at often breakneck speeds. 

Jason has no idea what his boyfriend is doing, but he looks equal parts pleased to equal parts pissed off at various points during the evening. 

Just after 10, Tim gets up and stretches, a line of skin briefly appearing as his shirt rises up over the waist of his jeans. He walks up to the bar where Jason's got a sizable stack of plates and glasses on some trays. "Need a hand?" he asks. 

"Always," Jason replies. 

Tim picks up one tray and heads to the back. He's gone for a few minutes before coming back for the second one. He hasn't quite mastered the fine art of balancing two full trays at once but he's getting better. When he returns a half hour later, his shirt sleeves are rolled up and he's carrying a coffee mug. 

Jason spares him a glance as he knows that coffee mug came from upstairs. He doesn't keep any in the bar. _Picking locks again, I see. It's like a game for him, I swear to God._

He's busy for a while longer and Tim steadily works on whatever it is he's doing in the corner, the pleased look growing by the minute.

Midnight rolls around and Jason decides it's time to close. He locks up after his last customer and turns off the lights in the windows. Curiosity is finally getting the best of him as he heads back to Tim's booth. The young executive is smirking viciously. 

Jason raises an eyebrow. "You look like the damn cat that caught the canary." 

Tim takes a sip from his mug (and on closer inspection, Jason confirms it _is_ one of his from upstairs). "I had better be. I just closed a deal that secured more financing for my business." 

"Look at you, Mr. Business over here in his corner," Jason teases. "I should totally bring you to the bank with me next time I need a loan.” 

"Anytime. I'll negotiate the hell out of it for you and probably get you better rates on your other loans too." Tim gives him a toothy grin. 

"So is this what you've been doing all evening? Talking people into thinking you're a good investment?" 

"I am a good investment," Tim stresses. "But I've also been checking out properties for DI with enough space for growth, running a simulation for Vic on something and giving him feedback, and harassing Tam to get off her ass and call Steph." 

Jason lets out a low whistle. "No wonder you snuck upstairs for coffee earlier. Fucking overachiever." 

Tim accepts the comment for what it is. "I know. Before I had my coffee, I didn't know how awesome I was going to be this evening either," he replies with a grin. “Should we take this upstairs and see if I can continue the trend?” He gives Jason a cocky smirk, one which never ceases to catch his attention. 

_Someone’s feeling playful tonight._ “By all means, rich boy,” Jason replies with a smirk of his own. “Show me what you got.”

 


	8. Even your coffee is surprised you woke up this early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this entire thing on my mobile last night in the wee hours of the morning. You know, prime bat-time. ;)

 

It's early. Far earlier than Tim usually wakes up but just about right for the time he'll pass out face first into whatever he's working on. _Why didn't I just stay awake? I swear, it would have been easier than this_. He opens his mouth and a jaw breaking yawn escapes. All he wants is to sleep but no, here he is in Dick's apartment sitting on his sofa trying to keep his eyes open. The cup of coffee he's nursing isn't helping. 

He's not the only one surprised that he's awake this early. Damian is eyeing him like some strange creature that he's never seen before. "Drake, I don't think I have ever seen you awake at this hour before. And on a weekend at that." 

Tim gives him a bleary glare. "This is all Dick's fault." 

"Agreed," Damian replies as he tries to suppress a yawn of his own and only partially succeeds. "Even your coffee is surprised you woke up this early. Whatever he is planning better be worth it." 

Dick had dragged Tim from his apartment over to his, barely giving him enough time to dress and get even one cup of coffee brewed before shoving him out the door. He'd dropped him off at his apartment, told him to stay, then quickly left again, leaving him with Damian. 

Tim yawns in reply and goes back to sipping his coffee. 

It's not long before Dick comes back, this time with Jason in tow. Both men are carrying large takeout cups of coffee (though with Jason it's hard to tell as he still goes for tea over coffee unless he's really desperate) and Dick's got a travel carrier with two more. Tim keeps drinking his first one. _Knowing Dick, it's full of some sugary crap that I'll still drink because it's coffee and caffeine_. 

Damian apparently has similar thoughts if the look on his face is any indication. He's got very firm opinions on coffee and how it should be brewed and only Alfred ever seems to get it right. 

Jason flops down between Tim and Damian and glares sullenly at their older brother. "This is prime sleep time, Dickie. Seven in the fucking morning on a _Saturday_ , you better have a good reason for hauling me over here." 

"Yes, Richard. Enough of your games. What is it?" 

Tim yawns again. _I wonder if Jason would mind if I use him as a pillow._

Apparently his brain to mouth filter isn't working as Dick laughs at him. Jason just swings an arm easily over Tim's shoulders and pulls him in. The scent of warm leather and a trace of cigarette smoke teases at Tim's nose as he leans into Jason's shoulder. 

"Well?" Damian snaps. 

Dick sets down the coffee carrier and a serious look replaces his easy grin. This never bodes well and all three of them sit up straighter on the sofa. "Okay. So, I know I'm probably going to get shanked for dragging you all here so early, but Alfred's birthday is coming up and I thought it would be really nice if we did something _together_ for him for once. What that is, I have no idea but I'm open to suggestions." 

"You dragged us out of bed on a Saturday for this?" Jason asks disbelievingly. "We could have figured something out on a group text." 

"I know, I know," Dick tries to placate Jason. "But in case you forgot, it's next week and _some people_ are very good at ignoring their messages." The barb is aimed at Jason who just glares. 

"Fine," Damian chimes in. "So Pennyworth will be one year older. What makes this birthday any different from the rest?" 

"He'll be 65," is Dick's simple reply. "The man should be considering retirement but yet look at everything he still does for all of us on a daily basis, whether we're at the Manor or not." 

Suitably chastised, Damian sits back with a thoughtful look on his face. 

Tim takes a sip from his coffee cup and relaxes against Jason again. The man runs warm and it's rare he lets anyone, let alone him, in this close. "We should try and take over his chore list for a day," he suggests. "I'm sure we'll fail horribly but if we stick Jason in the kitchen and put him in charge of food, we'll at least be fed." 

His brothers look at him in surprise.

"What?" Tim asks defensively.

"That's a great idea, little brother." Dick grins brightly. 

Jason nods in agreement and Damian looks like he bit a sour grape. "That is not a completely horrible idea, Drake."   

Tim raises his coffee mug in a mock salute. "I am somewhat capable of coherent thought on one hour of sleep and a single cup of coffee. If you want anything more from me though, ask me this afternoon. I'm going to bed." With that, he gets up and makes his grand exit out the living room and down the small hallway to Dick's guest room. 

He's rather proud of the fact he doesn't trip on anything until the door closes behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may turn into a longer one-shot.


	9. Part Two: I’m just waiting to see if my coffee chooses to use its powers for good or evil today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do a second piece to the coffee choosing to use it's powers for good or evil meme. Enjoy the much longer than usual chapter!

 

Tim lies sprawled in his bed, letting himself slowly come awake on his own rather than with the help of a blaring alarm clock for once. His blankets are in just the right place, his head is cradled in his pillow just so, and the temperature around him is just right. He’s _comfortable_ and the thought of getting up makes him grumble, so he doesn’t, because that would destroy the perfection of the environment around him. 

He doesn’t care what time it is and as he shifts slightly in the bed, feet sliding against the soft sheets, he wonders why he doesn’t wake up like this more often. It feels amazing. 

The slamming of his apartment door jars Tim to a more wakeful state but he doesn’t get up. Only one person comes over and announces himself like that and Tim’s too comfortable to deal with anything Jason needs his help with. 

It’s not long before the door to the bedroom opens, letting in light from the living room where he’s forgotten to close the blinds again. The light blue blackout curtains in his room are never opened, even when Tim’s up and puttering about. “Wakey, wakey, Replacement!” Jason says cheerfully from the door. He takes a perverse delight in waking Tim up, which he supposes is a definite improvement over wanting to stab him each time they saw each other in years past. “I even waited until after lunch, which I also so nicely brought for you. Up and at’em!” 

“No.” Tim raises an arm and flails it around slightly for emphasis before letting it drop back down onto the bed. His words haven’t quite come to him yet. “Perfect comfy,” he all but pouts as he tries to settle further into his bed and ignore his brother. 

“I got you that peppermint mocha shit you like with a triple shot of espresso,” Jason tries, but Tim ignores him; even the promise of coffee and espresso is not enough to make him move on this winter afternoon. 

He hears Jason enter the room; he’s purposefully making noise as the big man can be completely silent when he wants to be. Tim clutches his blankets tightly, knowing what’s coming next and already mourning the loss of his perfect little haven away from the rest of the world. “No,” he tries again, but Jason’s already got a grip on the blankets and _yanks_ hard. “No!” Tim wails and tries to pull them back, sitting up as he does, which appears to be what Jason wanted as he drops the blankets and picks Tim up, easily swinging him up and over his shoulder to carry him out of the room. 

“Jason!!” Tim shouts as he pounds on Jason’s back, more awake now that he’s been torn from his bed. “Put me down!” 

“Your wish is my command, princess.” 

Tim barely has time to react as Jason drops him on the living room floor. He lands on the rug, managing to twist at the last second to avoid landing on his head. “Dammit, Jason!” he shouts again as he stands up and turns to give the man the dirtiest look he could muster. “I was _sleeping_. As in, there was no alarm to _wake me up_. It was _perfect_ and _wonderful_ and…what the hell are you laughing at?” 

The entire time Tim’s been shouting, Jason’s been standing there with an amused look on his face and a smile that’s been getting bigger and bigger until he starts laughing. “Christ, Replacement. That is some serious bed-head going on there. Haven’t seen hair that gravity defying since your early days as Robin.” 

A retort is on the tip of Tim’s tongue but even freshly woken, he knows better than to ask just how Jason would know that. “Whatever,” he mutters instead and brushes past Jason to head to his kitchen. “Where’s my coffee?” 

Over lunch, Jason explains why he invaded Tim’s apartment, something about needing him to decipher and crack a code the street dealers in his area have been using for drug deliveries that’s been driving him nuts for weeks now. Tim gives him half of his attention, making appropriate comments here and there. The Thai coconut curry Jason brought goes a long way towards appeasing him after his abrupt awakening, but how a peppermint mocha is supposed to taste good with curry is beyond him. No, the other half of his attention is spent coming up with revenge on his brother. 

His coffee chose to use its powers for evil today. That’s what Jason gets for disturbing his perfect comfy. 

*****

Jason flops down on his not-so-crappy sofa in exhaustion. His body aches from the pummeling it took earlier, but also from all the chasing around he’s been doing for the last few days for the Replacement while he worked on cracking his code. He finally solved it this afternoon and as a reward, he took Red Robin with him when he went to deliver the pain. The little bird was absolutely wicked with that staff of his, looking like he was working off some frustration of his own. 

Even with Tim’s assistance though, it was still the two of them taking on about 20 men who weren’t afraid to use guns. He may be playing mostly on the side of the angels right now, but he still didn’t like other people shooting at him. Jason’s pretty sure the burning on his thigh is from some kind bullet wound. 

He rubs his hands tiredly over his face and scowls when he realizes his gloves are still on. Tearing them off as he stands, Jason leaves a trail of clothes behind him as he heads into his bathroom to shower. The water is warm for once and Jason stands there, enjoying the feeling of the spray as it hits his back and helps relax the tension. Not for the first time, he wishes he had a bathtub so he could soak away the aches and pains. 

When the water starts to get cold, Jason turns it off and steps out, toweling off quickly in the cool damp air. The wound on his thigh turns out to be a graze, so that’s easily taken care of. Stepping out into his bedroom, Jason can’t help but shiver. He should have known that since he had hot water that the heater wouldn’t be working. His building is odd like that. Flipping on the space heater he keeps in the room, Jason pulls on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt. While the room warms up, he goes back out to the living to start a pot of tea and picks up his gear, putting it away to be cleaned later today when he wakes up. 

Tea in hand, Jason returns to his bedroom and settles into bed, warm mug carefully cradled in his hand to keep from spilling. He picks up the book he’s been reading from his nightstand, but as soon as the tea is done, he’s too comfortable to stay awake for longer. Turning off the light, Jason falls asleep. 

*****

From the building across the way, Tim lowers a pair of binoculars and smirks viciously. He purposefully kept Jason running for the last few days, tracking down leads for his own cases that he was putting aside in order to help him with his. He’d solved the code on the first day, but waited until this afternoon to inform his older brother. 

The night had been long and his body ached from some of the hits he’d taken, but other than bruises, he felt fine. Somewhat tired, but nowhere near as tired as Jason had to be. For once, Tim felt relatively well rested, what with Jason doing his work for him the last few days and nights. The fight tonight was icing on the cake (though it didn’t escape his notice that Jason was limping and favoring one his legs from where he suspects the other man was shot).

But Jason looks to be in one piece, so it’s time to roll out his revenge plan. He’s already implemented phase one, which was messing the heater in Jason’s crappy apartment. Tim pulls out a tablet, opens an app, and enters a few commands. 

The apartment now has no electricity. 

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t bother Jason in the slightest. But over the last couple of days, the man had let slip to Tim that he absolutely hates the cold. Winter is his least favorite season too, so he gets it, but for Jason, Tim knows it goes further than that, back to a childhood of living on the streets and struggling to survive in the worst of what the season had to throw at him (of waking up in the cold ground and digging himself out). 

Tim is not so petty as to prey on one of Jason’s myriad of psychoses, but he is willing to make him feel miserable on what is shaping up to be one of the coldest nights of the year. He’s not too worried; Jason is indoors, under his covers, and had been running his space heater for a good hour before he went to bed, so he won’t get cold too fast. The man also runs warmer than any human Tim’s ever met. 

But he’ll wake up to a cold apartment. One where he’ll be unable to make even his precious tea or take a hot shower in the morning. 

It’s enough for him.

*****

Later that day, Tim is awake, sitting on his sofa with a game controller in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, the dark green knitted afghan he got as a gift from Stephanie is wrapped loosely around him. A game he’s been waiting forever to play is paused on his wall-mounted TV. He sets aside the water and puts the controller down when the pounding starts on his front door. Angry shouts that sound like his name echo in the air. 

Getting up, he pads across the living room, quietly unlocks the door beneath all the noise, and opens it wide with a quick movement. Jason’s still got his fist raised and his mouth is open, caught in mid shout. 

Tim calmly raises an eyebrow and leans in his doorway. “So what did I do now?” 

Jason’s face darkens. “You little piece of shit. What did you do to my electricity?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim lies easily. He lies to Batman, what makes Jason think he can catch him in one? 

“You fucked with my apartment, asshole. I know it was you. What the hell crawled up your ass and died that you’re taking it out on me, huh?” 

“Nothing,” Tim replies calmly as he turns around and walks back to his sofa. Given enough time, Jason will figure it out. He’s too riled to think straight right now. 

Jason slams the door shut behind him and follows. He takes off his winter jacket and his boots, sits down on the other side of the sofa from the younger man and pulls the afghan Tim has his feet tucked under closer to him. 

Arching his eyebrow again, Tim gives Jason a querying look. “Making yourself at home?” 

“Fuck you,” Jason replies with a sour look of his own. “I’m staying here until you turn my power back on.” 

Tim rolls his eyes and goes back to his game, patently ignoring Jason’s grumbles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a one-shot I started a couple months ago and couldn't figure out how to end properly until now. Perfect comfy is a term the hubby and I use. It is practically sacrilege in this house to disturb perfect comfy since it comes along so rarely and is cherished even more than the perfect cuddle.
> 
> Yes, I know, we're weird. ;P


	10. I'm having an out of coffee experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a roll tonight. Morning. Whatever.

Tim groans quietly through the haze of what he’s now coherent enough to recognize as the really good drugs Alfred only gives them when they’ve done something spectacularly bad to themselves. He shifts slightly and there’s a dull ache in his midsection. It’s the only thing he feels, so he’s positive that’s going to be a world of hurt when Alfred starts lowering dosage for the pain medication. 

Blinking slowly, Tim groans again, more at the thought of the upcoming pain than anything he’s feeling now. 

This groan seems to be enough to catch the attention of Bruce, as his face suddenly leans in from nowhere to capture Tim’s gaze. “Are you awake, Tim?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Tim replies slowly. His tongue feels like lead and his mouth is dry. “Thirsty,” he whispers. 

“I’ve got ice chips for you, champ.” Bruce carefully places a chip of ice on Tim’s tongue. 

The cool liquid is welcome and Tim quickly opens his mouth again for more. Bruce obliges. “You’ve been in a medically induced coma for five days now. Leslie’s orders. She took you off those medications earlier today, so we’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” 

Tim blinks again, slowly sucking on the ice in his mouth. Everything is a fog and he struggles for words. “What…happened?” he rasps. 

“You got shot,” Bruce replies somberly. It’s hard to tell since Tim doesn’t have his glasses on, but the man looks wrecked, like he hasn’t slept once in those five days. “It was bad. Of all the people who could have found you, it was Jason. He took you to Leslie’s. If he hadn’t…” he trails off as his eyes darken and his face closes off. 

“Hmmm…that was…nice of him,” Tim starts to doze off again. 

“Yes, it was,” he hears Bruce say before sleeps pulls him under once again. 

*****

Tim is soon able to stay conscious for longer periods of time and, just as quickly, starts chafing at all the restrictions placed on him by Alfred and Dr. Thompkins. First and foremost of these restrictions – he’s not allowed any coffee. Not even decaf (as if he’d drink that swill, but Dr. Thompkins was the one who’d said it, not him). 

Liquids only for the time being while the section of his large intestine that she’d repaired heals itself; even then, most of it was being given to him intravenously. Repaired, Tim sniffs at the thought. More like removed. Not only is he now missing a spleen, but a few feet of his guts too. 

He has plenty of visitors, but not a single one of them is willing to risk Alfred’s wrath by bringing him a cup of coffee. Even Kon and Bart refused during their visit. 

“No way, man,” Kon had said defensively. “That old man is scarier than Batman. I am not pissing him off just to get you your fix.” 

“I'm having an out of coffee experience here. Come on!” Tim tried. 

Bart just laughed at him and gave him some more ice to suck on. 

A week after Tim woke up from his coma, Jason finally makes his appearance. He sneaks in through his window during the night when everyone else is out on patrol. Alfred hadn’t even been gone five minutes after making sure Tim was settled in for the night and giving him his now significantly decreased amount of pain medication. 

Tim’s feeling grouchy as the tablet he’s been given to amuse himself with isn’t picking up the wifi signal he _knows_ is in this room. He glares at the older man and holds out the tablet. “Make this work,” he orders. 

Jason takes off his helmet and raises an eyebrow. He’s not wearing a mask underneath tonight. “Still got some life to you yet, huh, Replacement? You were doing a great impersonation of dying on me a couple weeks ago." 

It’s not what he says, but the way he says it that gives Tim pause. He and Jason did not have the best relationship. He wouldn’t even call it a relationship. But the man did save his life for once (rather than trying to take it), so he could (should) be gracious. “Sorry,” Tim says as he drops his arm and the useless tablet to his side. The effort of holding it up was more wearying than he thought. “I’m just…uncomfortable. I can’t have anything I want and no one will give me anything capable of connecting to the internet.” 

“They don’t want you meddlin’ right now.” It’s not a question. 

“Don’t want me doing anything right now,” Tim corrects him. “I’m going stir crazy.” 

“Welcome to the crazy club, Replacement. Here, I brought you somethin’.” Jason takes off a backpack Tim hadn’t realized he was carrying and rustles through it for something. He takes out a cylindrical container and Tim gasps, his eyes going wide. 

“That’s a thermos. Oh God, did you bring me coffee?” 

“You get three sips.” Jason unscrews the cap and removes the seal. The sound of coffee pouring into the plastic cup his ice normally sits in is music to Tim’s ears. 

“How did you know?” he asks in wonder as he accepts the cup from the other man. 

Jason shrugs, his leather jacket shifting across his big shoulders as he moves. “Comm chatter has been full of jokes about you and your caffeine addiction the last couple of days.” 

Tim doesn’t ask why Jason’s been hacked into their frequencies recently (or how long he has been). He inhales the scent of the dark liquid in his cup. It’s not much, not anywhere near the amount he wants, but he understands why Jason’s being careful. 

“Thank you,” he says gratefully and takes a sip. And another. And a third. Jason had poured just the right amount for three mouthfuls. 

The taste alone makes Tim relax back into his pillows and he smiles lazily as he hands the cup back to Jason. “I think that was the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.” 

“What would you do if I told you it was decaf?” 

“Strangle you with my IV.”

 


	11. If this is decaf, you better start running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yawn...Bedtime yet?

Tim fights back a yawn as he looks through yet another file that his assistant dropped on his desk before scurrying off. It's been a nightmare going through all of WE's financials, trying to understand things he barely remembers his parents talking about when he was younger. He doesn't often regret dropping out of school but right now is one of those times. 

If he were _normal_ , he'd be in class right now, the only worry in his mind would be the quiz next period or if he should try asking that cute chick from 3rd period if she wanted to go out for coffee sometime. 

But no, _this_ is his normal. Tim grinds his teeth in frustration. Bruce really needs to get his head out of his ass and realize that sticking a 17-year old high school drop out in the CEO's chair of an international conglomerate is not a good idea. To start, no one takes him seriously (although the board of directors would much rather deal with him than with the little autocrat that is Damian Wayne). 

Second, he's pretty certain now that he took over just before Hush royally screwed up _everything_ past the point of no return. 

Which explains why the board likes him enough to at least let him sit in this chair for now. 

Tim sighs as he sorts through the most recent folder his assistant left on his desk. It's full of invoices. He'd asked for an expense report detailing Hush's spending from the time Bruce "died" to the time he took over. The amount of money he'd spent is mind-boggling, even to him. 

No wonder it had been easy to declare Bruce incompetent when it came to his finances. 

But, Tim thinks as he leans back and stretches, there's a silver lining here. And it's a massive one if he chose to take advantage of it. 

He now controls Batman's budget. 

The thought amuses him greatly. Perhaps he should mention this to Damian the next time he finds something to rag on him about. 

His assistant comes back in with another file, as well as a coffee mug. Tim eyes him warily, feeling like he’s about to be bribed. “Ah, here’s another file for you, Mr. Wayne,” the man says. He’s technically an intern who’s been assigned to Tim for the time being. 

“Does it contain more of the invoices I asked for?” Tim asks, peering at the man over the rim of his glasses. He suppresses an urge to drum his fingers on the desk as the man squirms a bit. 

Yup, he’s about to be bribed. 

“No, sir. Mr. Fox gave this to me and said to bring it to you. And to bring you some coffee.” 

Tim gives in to the urge for a moment. What good are interns if you can’t make them uncomfortable? He’s yet to figure out what they do besides run errands all over the building. Besides, they’re the few people he can intimidate with just his name alone. 

Small victories. 

“Did he now?” Tim sighs again and gestures to the stack of folders off to the side of the desk. “I’ll get to it eventually.” 

“He said it was urgent, sir.” The intern sets the coffee mug down and slowly starts backing away before his spine returns when Tim gives him a sharp look. 

“Did he say _why?_ ”

“No, Mr. Wayne. Just that I needed to tell you it was urgent and that I should bring you some coffee. He said you’d probably need it.” The man looks like he’s about to faint and Tim realizes he’s giving the man one of his Bat-glares. 

“Fine,” he tries not snap as he picks up the folder to place it in front of him. He then turns his attention to the coffee mug. “If this is decaf, you better start running.” 

The man bolts. 

Tim turns his gaze on the folder and opens it. He grimaces as he reads the note Lucius included. 

_Tim-  
_

_I thought these might be of some use to you. Stop scaring the interns.  
_

_-Lucius_

The folder contains a number of different pamphlets for high school prep classes, as well as a few for some GED study programs. 

How is this his life again? Lucius does have a point though. Even the _interns_ have a piece of paper he doesn’t. Time to stop messing around. If this is what he has to put up with, then he needs to get his GED. And some college. At least one degree. Maybe two. He needs to put a plan in place because if this is the shit Bruce is foisting off on him, he needs to plan his _revenge_ now because by the time Damian turns 18, this company is going to be _his_. 

Tim absently picks up the coffee cup and takes a sip. It’s like they say… Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee. He may as well get started.

 


	12. After I drink coffee, I like to show the empty mug to the IT guy and tell him I installed JAVA. He hates me.

_From the Stupid is Strong With This One 'verse_

 

“ _Pssst!_ Hey, Tim. Look. Hey, Timmy! You even fucking awake?” Jason tries to get Tim’s attention from over the low wall of their cubicle.

Tim ignores him. At this time of night, it’s usually the safest bet.

“I can see you, you know,” Jason tries again.

He makes the fatal mistake of making eye contact.

The other man grins and holds up his coffee mug.

“You made coffee?” Tim asks neutrally. It’s rare for Jason to drink coffee. He normally can’t stand it while Tim practically lives off the stuff.

There has to be a catch. It’s Jason, there always is.

The grin gets even bigger as Jason slowly (dramatically) tips the mug upside down. Tim’s eyes widen in horror before he realizes it’s empty.

“What the hell?”

“Lookie what I did!” Jason says proudly. “I installed JAVA!”

Tim rolls his eyes and groans before returning to his work of detangling lines of code that Stephanie sent him (that Dick had somehow mangled). He hates his job sometimes.

“JAVA! C’mon, Timmy, that’s funny.”

Most of the time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't see Tim not being the IT guy, so this is as close as it gets.


	13. It is inhumane to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day! I'm on a roll!

The line at the coffee shop is long, much longer than usual for this time of day. Tim usually manages to time his visits perfectly in the middle of the afternoon so that he doesn’t have to wait more than a few minutes before he can get his coffee and walk back to the office. But, due to a series of events that made him want to strangle someone, not only is he fifteen minutes late, but he also has Damian in tow.

Though he thinks the boy is along more to torture him than anything else. It’s what he does.

Tim glares over the rim of his glasses at Damian.

The littlest bird glares right back, just as fiercely. He’s not backing down.

“It is not a ridiculous request,” Tim repeats himself firmly. “I have a genuine medical need for coffee and waiting in line behind people who apparently view it as some of recreational activity is completely inhumane.” He gestures wildly at the long line in front of them.

“Drake, do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?” Damian rolls his eyes in disgust. It’s such an out of character thing for the boy to do that it takes Tim aback for a moment.

“Yes, I do. And I really think you can ninja your way to the front of the line and place my order for me.”

“And even if I did, what makes you think I would order what you actually _want_?” Damian retorts.

It’s a valid point and Tim takes a moment to decide if this is the time for a bribe (always risky with Damian) or to break out the blackmail (always much more entertaining). He weighs his odds of success and decides to go with the latter, letting an evil smirk appear on his face.

Damian visibly shrinks back a bit, but stands his ground. He knows this look never bodes well for him.

“You will, for once in your life, act like the cute little boy I know is in there somewhere and order me my coffee. If you don’t, I _will_ let it slip to Alfred just _who_ it was who ruined that antique rug when they decided it was a good idea to teach their dog new tricks after they’d been outside in the rain.”

The boy has been with them long enough now that he knows who wields the most power over the Wayne household. But he still tries. “You wouldn’t dare,” Damian challenges.

“Won’t I?” Tim arches an eyebrow in a gesture very reminiscent of the old butler.

“Fine,” Damian huffs, looking disgruntled and very much his age. “What do you want?”

Tim gives him his order and some money and steps out of line to take a seat to watch the show. It’s always a risk to reveal one his cards to Damian, but in this case, it’s a well played one as he takes out his phone and starts recording.

Damian does know how to act like a real boy after all. This needs to be recorded for posterity. Or for future blackmail material.

 


	14. I drink coffee for your protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For rpglady76! Though this is likely not quite what you had in mind.

_Sequel to I'm Having an Out of Coffee Experience  
_

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, Tim decides after being stuck on bed rest for almost two weeks now. He’s now allowed short trips to the bathroom finally and once a day he gets to walk up and down the long upstairs hallway using his IV pole as a crutch. Someone always accompanies him on these laps, which grow longer and longer each day (he’s still embarrassed about the first day where he made to the end of the hallway but couldn’t make it back; Bruce had to carry him while Alfred followed behind with the IV). 

So what if he still has staples holding his guts together? That’s what bandages are for. He should at least be allowed downstairs to set up shop in the living room. It would save Alfred all the trips upstairs (though he knows the old man uses the elevator when he’s carrying anything more than a tray with his soup and his ice chips). That argument failed spectacularly when Tim tried it on the butler, so now he’s working on plan number 16 in his attempt to leave the upper levels of Wayne Manor (he’s not crazy enough to try the stairs on his own yet; he’s desperate, not suicidal). 

Alfred seems to be viewing it as a game, which makes Tim all the more determined to win. 

And he’s _still_ not allowed any coffee or anything else caffeinated. Dr. Thompkins told him last week he should be taking this opportunity to catch up on his sleep and perhaps get rid of the perpetual bags under his eyes. 

Tim sits in bed, propped up by a myriad of pillows as he contemplates his next course of action. He needs to try something really outrageous next, something that no one would see coming. The room offers no inspiration but Tim finds himself idly staring at the IV pump. Specifically, the port where Alfred will inject a syringe with his pain medication into his IV line. 

An idea starts to worm its way into his mind. It’s stupid and ridiculous, but perhaps if he demonstrates the extremes he’ll go through in his thought processes, it’ll work. 

*****

The one thing Tim has been allowed finally is an internet connection. He’s almost positive _someone_ (probably Barbara) is taking the occasional peek at his browser history to make sure he’s not doing anything too strenuous (this family has the oddest ideas about what parental controls are); for the most part, he’s been using it to message back and forth with his friends. 

He starts his research into concentrated liquid caffeine. What he finds is both interesting and disturbing. Interesting in that there are a ton of different products out there advertising to be exactly what he’s looking for, but what’s disturbing is how many of these are being advertised as a health supplement, often with very little information as to what is considered a safe dose. One even said “use sparingly”. 

Tim is starting to think his great idea for auto-injecting a dose of caffeine directly into his bloodstream every few hours like an insulin pump does for diabetics is a bit too far fetched, even for him. But, since he doesn’t have anything better to do, he continues his research. 

A couple days pass and one afternoon, Bruce enters Tim’s room and takes a seat in the chair that’s been placed near the head of his bed. Tim is hard at work on his little project and barely spares him a glance. “What’s up, Bruce?” 

“I believe it’s time for your walk. Alfred said you’re up to seven laps now.” The big man sounds quietly proud of the accomplishment. 

Tim shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I just pace myself so I can spend as much time out of bed as possible.” 

“You know you shouldn’t be putting stress on your staples,” Bruce tries to reason with the bed-ridden young man. 

“And you shouldn’t be putting stress on that left knee of yours, but you don’t see me ratting you out to Alfred, now do you?” Tim glances away from his tablet for a moment to give Bruce an arch look. Perhaps this is a better way to go about his goal of getting downstairs. Bruce has been away for the last several days on JL business, so there’s a chance he can guilt the man into taking him downstairs. 

Hell, at this point, he’d settle for being carried down the damn stairs like a princess if that’s what it takes. 

Bruce ignores the dig (unwise) and glances at the tablet. “What are you working on?” 

“A proposal for Wayne Pharmaceuticals to look into the claims that liquid caffeine is a health supplement and can be used as an aid in weight loss,” Tim says it blandly on purpose, knowing the topic alone would catch the man’s attention. 

He doesn’t disappoint as his eyes widen in surprise. “Do I even want to know how this came about?” 

Tim casts a pointed look at his IV pole and the drip still taped to his right hand. 

Bruce isn’t the World’s Greatest Detective for nothing as he instantly gets the implications of what his son has been up to. “Right…Let’s get you up for your walk. And, if you’re feeling all right after five laps, we’ll take a trip down the elevator and go to the library.” 

Tim grins victoriously. It’s not the living room, but at this point, he’ll take what he can get. 

As Bruce helps him out of bed and to his feet, he comments, “I fear the day you take it into your head to actually use that stuff.” 

“I drink coffee for _your_ protection, Bruce. This is what happens when I don’t get it. You should be happy that I didn’t like a lot of what I found and that my proposal is to get some clinical testing done on this stuff before even more people die from accidental overdoses.” Tim wobbles for a moment as he gets his balance and grasps the IV pole firmly. 

“So there have been deaths.” It’s not a question. 

“A few, yeah. So at least my crusade hasn’t been a complete waste of time.” Tim starts walking slowly out of his room. It always takes a few steps for his muscles to warm up. 

Bruce looks thoughtful as he keeps pace with Tim down the wide hallway. “Perhaps instead of the library, we’ll take a quick trip down to the Cave. Alfred’s running errands right now.” 

The words are so unexpected that Tim almost falls flat on his face before Bruce reaches out to steady him. “Hallelujah!” he says in relief. “Let’s go!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did some actual research on concentrated liquid caffeine and holy shit, is that stuff scary. The "use sparingly" is something I found on an product label. WTF?? Also, it is advertised, at least here in the US, as a dietary supplement, so of course, that also means it's not FDA regulated or even reviewed, even though I also found articles where at least three people in the US have died from an accidental overdose of this "supplement". Double WTF??
> 
> Yeah, I'm going to stick with my sludge.


	15. #SleepingIsCheating

Tim stares thoughtfully at his tablet, idly tapping his lip as he thinks over what he’s just read. 

A headline on a news website had caught his attention and now, three hours later, he’s contemplating whether or not to bite the bullet and place the order. 

702 milligrams of caffeine in just 12 ounces of coffee… 

The coffee maker claims it’s the strongest coffee in the world and had even had independent tests done to confirm the bold statement. And Tim has just finished hacking into those research labs to verify them. He’s convinced. 

Add to the fact that the company states they could have made the coffee stronger, but didn’t because of health reasons (though they did state the caffeine content still borders on narcotic). 

But the question is, is he really that much of a caffeine addict to _want_ that much of it all at once? 

Thinking back to all his long nights and even longer days, trying to juggle _everything_ that comes his way; the struggle to stay awake and push through one more time, only to crash and burn, then get up after passing out for a day or two to do it all over again… 

Yes. Yes, he is. Tim places the order. 

One bag, he tells himself. Only to be used when absolutely needed. He shakes his head wryly, already knowing he’ll very likely be placing a second order within a month if it works. 

It’s like the company’s website says…Sleeping is cheating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chibi_nightowl in no way endorses or is promoting this product. Nope, no way, no how, despite the fact she could very desperately use a jolt of caffeine like this to the system about now.
> 
> And now that I'm done referring to myself in the third person, this stuff is real and got my attention after randomly seeing the headline about it a few days ago. It's not a meme, but it's very much a Tim thing and I thought of him instantly when I started looking into it. :D
> 
> https://blackinsomnia.coffee/


	16. Protect the Earth: the only planet with coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Izzy! Thanks for the great meme! I hope you enjoy this!

It started as a joke. At least, Tim’s pretty sure it started as a joke. He wasn’t fully awake at the time, so his memory is a bit spotty. 

However it started, he’s making sure it ends. Today. 

Kon pokes Tim in the ribs, just hard enough to make him grunt. “Smile, Rob. I thought you were big on charity work. Neon Knights ringin’ a bell?” 

“My kind of charity work doesn’t involve digging holes,” Tim replies sourly as he pushes his shovel into the ground and drives his booted foot down to get some extra depth before yanking it back up. “Shouldn’t you be the one doing the hard labor?” 

“I would, but for some reason, dude, I’m the only one capable of putting on a smile for the crowd.” 

“If you exerted yourself, you and Bart could have this done in _seconds_.” 

Kon shakes his head and waits for Tim to finish the hole before carefully setting the small sapling in it and lightly packing the loose dirt around it. “Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?” he finally asks, giving Tim a wary look. They’ve been friends for so long that Kon takes pride in being able to read his best friend even when he’s covered head to toe in his Red Robin uniform. 

He doesn’t much like the new uniform. And as Tim’s best friend, he takes great pride in being able to tease him about it. “Or is the cowl causing your head to roast? You know, since you damn Bats never see the light of day. There’s this thing called the sun. It’s good for a lot of things, photosynthesis being one of them.” 

“Is that your big word for the day?” Tim bites out as he starts digging a new hole a few meters from the first one. His head is starting to hurt, but it’s not because of the sun. His uniform is temperature regulated; he feels fine. 

“Okay, I thought Mr. Sarcastic took a well deserved early retirement,” Kon replies as he follows after Tim, dragging their wagon of saplings behind him. “What the hell crawled up your ass and died today? _You_ signed us all up for this, so what gives?” 

Tim turns and glares balefully at Kon, though the effect is somewhat lost thanks to the cowl. “I did _what_?” 

“Seriously, man? Do you really not remember?” 

“Why would I sign the Titans up for volunteer work replanting trees in the middle of the damn Amazon? It’s hot, it’s humid, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been seeing bugs that are bigger than my head.” 

“Dude. Oh my God, you have no idea, do you?” Kon sounds scandalized and starts digging around for his phone. He pulls it out of a pocket and swipes the screen open, looking for something. 

“No, I obviously don’t,” Tim snaps. “You of all people know how busy I am. I’m all for being eco-friendly and saving the Earth, but I’ve had four hours of sleep in the last two days and you woke me up this morning to drag me here when I was finally planning to catch up.” 

“Like you’ll ever catch up on that sleep debt of yours,” Kon mutters as he looks through the videos on his phone, trying to find the right one. “Your bags have bags.” 

“Whatever,” Tim replies and turns his attention back to his hole. At least the physical labor is proving to be a good way to vent his frustrations. 

“Okay, found it.” Kon shoves his phone in Tim’s face a moment later. “Watch this. Bart managed to record it and sent it to me.” 

There’s a sudden sinking feeling in Tim’s stomach as he accepts the phone. Whatever this is, it’s _evidence_ that he got himself into this. He starts the video. 

On the screen, Tim is…well, he’s not quite sure what he’s doing. Trying to eat breakfast apparently. His hair is all over the place and that’s a shirt he usually only wears to bed. A bowl of cereal is sitting abandoned in front of him and there’s no coffee in sight other than the bag of beans he’s holding so close to his face he ought to be cross-eyed. 

“So Tim, you really think this is a great idea?” Bart’s voice asks from somewhere. 

Tim’s head wobbles wildly as he nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh.” 

“Why? We do volunteer work all over San Francisco, as well as in our hometowns.” 

“You don’t get it,” on-screen Tim whispers and raises his eyes from the bag to stare almost right into the camera. He looks like a maniac as his bright blue eyes dart back to the bag and then back at Bart. The bag of coffee beans is suddenly shoved right at the camera and Bart takes a step back so that the bag comes into focus. “We can help save the coffee,” Tim says beatifically. The camera pans back to Tim who looks like he’d just had a holy experience. 

“I thought you wanted to protect the Earth?” Bart asks carefully. 

“Protect the Earth: the only planet with coffee.” Tim pulls the bag back and cradles it close. “Precious coffee.” 

The screen shakes as Bart starts laughing. “Have you even had any yet?” 

“Coffee…” Tim mutters as he gently shakes the bag. “Yes, yes, we’ll save you. We’ll save you!” He suddenly darts off, carrying the coffee bag with him. 

Bart laughs even harder. “Oh man, I have to send this to Kon!” The video stops there. 

Tim silently hands the phone back to Kon. He does remember the event in question. Barely. He’d thought it was a dream. So much for the joke, he thinks as he looks around at the massive field he and the rest of the Titans are working in, replanting local trees that had been cut as part of deforestation efforts to clear land for farming. They're doing it as a team to help garner attention on the conservation efforts, but apparently the original idea had been born of much more selfish reasons. 

Squaring his shoulders, Tim takes a deep breath, silently accepting the slice of humble pie his best friend has handed him, and turns his attention back on the hole in front of him. 

“Not gonna say anything?” Kon asks. He’s grinning, Tim can tell. 

“Shut up.” 

*****

The next week, Kon arrives home from school to find a package waiting for him on the kitchen table. There’s no name, but the return address is in Gotham City. 

Just to be safe, Kon flies a few miles away and hovers several thousand feet up in the air before he opens it, revealing a rather large looking shirt in his size. 

The t-shirt is a pale green with a stamped image of a tree on the back of it. Turning it around, he starts laughing at what’s printed on the front in large block print. 

_Protect the Earth: the only planet with coffee_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this is an actual t-shirt, I want it.


	17. A coffee a day keeps Mr. Hyde at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter last night, for reasons that will soon become clear...
> 
> Can be seen as a sequel to _If this is decaf, you better start running._

Tim drums his fingers on the old wooden table in the Gotham University library, not even trying to hide his impatience anymore at the absolute buffoon sitting across from him. Group projects have never been a favorite of his for this very reason. Someone always tries to get out of doing _something_ and he ends up having or shoulder the load. Teams of three or four aren't too bad but this time, it's just the two of them.  
  
And this asshole thinks he can foist everything off onto Tim because he says he has to _work_ this weekend and doesn't have time.   
  
He knows the guy doesn't. He checked. He doesn't even have a _job_.  
  
Tim raises an eyebrow. He's not going to give him the glare yet. "Really? How're we going to make this happen then? I work too." It's only a partial lie. He may not work at WE on the weekends but this guy doesn't have to know that.   
  
The guy stutters and looks confused for a moment before he recovers and spouts another excuse that Tim doesn't buy. The blonde freshman is here on a football scholarship; Tim is here through blood, sweat, tears, and an unholy desire to stick it solidly to Damian (just a few more years to go). 

There is no doubt in his mind who’s going to win here. And it’s not the epitome of every dumb jock stereotype he’s ever seen sitting across from him, that’s for certain.  
  
He starts to glare over the rim of his glasses. "Look, just because I'm the youngest CEO ever to take over a multi-national conglomerate does not mean I'm going to take this project on by myself. Either do your part or don't. My grade can take the hit, can yours?"  
  
Rhetorical question. He already knows it can't.   
  
The other guy blanches and tries to backtrack.   
  
"I don't care what plans you already have for the weekend or that you're supposed to be going out of town with some chick. Either do your part or don't. Push comes to shove, we both know who the professor's going to believe." The glare is getting harder.   
  
He's reminded again of why he really should have stuck it out and finished high school like a normal kid. Because then he could have graduated with honors and some college credits already under his belt so that he _didn't have to be in idiot classes like this one_ with thick-necked morons who got in by the skin of their teeth on a sports scholarship. Perhaps if he’d taken a few extra weeks to study for the GED, he would have passed with the honors certificate. 

Too late for regrets now (he’s got enough of them already, really).  
  
By this point, the guy seems to realize he's not going to talk his way out of this and tries to start his own intimidation game with Tim.   
  
It fails miserably. Tim has never felt less intimidated in his life.   
  
"Look, asshole, either do your part or explain to coach why you're failing English 102. I bet he's going to be full of sympathy when he hears your little sob story."  
  
Tim can just _feel_ the anger seething in his veins. He gets pushed around enough at WE as it is, he is _no_ t going to put up with this here.   
  
There must be something slipping out through the cracks in his facade because his partner finally backs down. He looks a little apprehensive actually.   
  
Good. It'll make things easier if they _ever_ have to work together in the future.   
  
Assignment divided between them, Tim stands and leaves the library. He's still riled up and almost stomps his way across the commons to the one place on campus he likes more than the library - the coffee shop that's attached to the bookstore and student union.   
  
He waits in line and soon enough, a tall cup of warm caffeinated goodness is in his hands. At the first sip, he can feel the tension bleeding away. After the second, his anger starts receding. By the time he's halfway through the cup, he feels normal again.   
  
Tim shakes his head wryly as he realizes what he's just done. Kon has teased him about his Jekyll and Hyde impersonation before when he either hasn't had enough sleep or had enough caffeine.   
  
A coffee a day keeps Mr. Hyde away, he thinks as he finishes his drink and starts the walk back across campus to his next class.   
  
But really, it's the Bat-glare that keeps the idiots at bay.


	18. My favorite coffee is the one where no one talks to me while I drink it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred me tonight that I haven't written a coffee drabble for a while...Enjoy!

Tim stares in horror at the newspaper that Stephanie has just shoved in his face. She’s laughing at him. Loudly. 

“Oh my God, Tim! She actually _quoted_ you on that!” she wheezes, gasping for air as she falls to her knees on the rough rooftop. 

The sight of Batgirl laughing her ass off should be amusing as hell, but Tim can’t appreciate it when it’s directed at _him_. He reads the article, wondering exactly what Vicki Vale took out of context and misquoted him on this time. 

The article is a puff piece, he remembers that much from the interview with the tenacious redhead. The Wayne Foundation was involved in a new affordable housing initiative in the Bowery and Lucius had generously volunteered Tim to be the public face of it. 

Hence the interview. Interviews actually. Plural. Tim had done five that day. He’s still amazed he’s even able to patrol tonight, though he is making it a short one, considering how early his day had started. Vicki was the last interview he’d done and by then, his patience was worn thin. It’s the only reason he can think of for what he’s reading. 

_Timothy Wayne is certainly not a morning person! When asked his favorite type of coffee, he replied thusly, without even missing a beat. “_ _My favorite coffee is the one where no one talks to me while I drink it.”_

Tim takes a deep breath and drops the paper on the still laughing Stephanie’s head. He can’t blame her, he’d be laughing too if one of the others had done it. “Let me guess, I’m trending again on Twitter?” 

The grin he gets in reply is blinding. “#TimWayneNotAMorningPerson.” 

“Dammit.”

 


	19. I've had a pot of coffee. Time to take over the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided my Casebook universe needed to make an appearance. :D

Words. Tim hates them sometimes. Usually when he hasn’t had enough sleep and not enough caffeine.   
  
This is one of those times. Which really sucks because there's a crisis going on and he needs to get his head in the game. This never bodes well for him as Gordon will call all-hands on deck, even those on administrative leave like him. But the fog of sleep deprivation hangs heavy over him and he can't help but struggle to make the connections that normally come so easily when he's had enough sleep. Does he regret catching up on his video game backlog? Nope, not at all.  

Especially when the world might be ending.  
  
Still, if he were capable of making a list right now, he should add this as a point to the more sleep column.   
  
"Tim," he hears someone say through the fog. "Here." They hand him something. It's warm.   
  
Tim blinks blearily up at Jason.   
  
"Don't give me the doe eyes, you little shit. Drink up. B's offworld and we need your brain."  
  
The aroma hits him as he raises the mug to his lips.   
  
_Coffee_.  
  
It's hot, but not scaldingly so. He drinks the cup quickly.   
  
But it's not enough. Jason seems to catch on and hands him another. "I think someone should have slept more instead of binging on the Xbox."  
  
Words. They're starting to come back. "Why do you need my help? I'm not a cape."   
  
Jason laughs mockingly. "Not a cape he says. Right. You grew up in the shadow of Robin. Time to spread those wings, stalker."  
  
Tim glares as he works on the second cup. "Bruce has been offworld plenty of times and you've all done just fine without me. What gives this time?"  
  
He sets the empty mug down but doesn't attempt to get up yet. Blinking, Tim realizes Jason has somehow dragged him to the kitchen and has seated him at the dining table. When did this happen?  
  
"Oracle has the flu. She's agreed to let you come over and play with her systems. Says you're the only one of us she trusts not to fuck things up." Jason pours more coffee into the empty mug. He's holding a mostly empty coffee pot. "How much more of this are you gonna need?"  
  
"Wha-what?" Tim gapes. He can _feel_ his eyes growing wider by the moment and his jaw dropping. "She's what?"  
  
Jason's grin grows bigger, knowing he has Tim hooked. "Babs is sick. You get to be Oracle for the day. Think you're up for it? She does."  
  
Tim slams back the last of the coffee and reaches for the pot, adrenaline surging through him as his excitement grows. He finishes it and jumps to his feet. "Let's go. I've had a pot of coffee, it's time to take over the world."  
  
He charges off, running across his apartment to his office to get his laptop and tablet. Tossing them in his messenger bag, Tim marches back out to the still grinning Jason.   
  
"Don't you mean save the world?" he asks.   
  
Tim breezily waves a hand. "Semantics. You ready?"  
  
"Yeah, I am but I think you're missing something." Jason looks pointedly at Tim's legs.   
  
He looks down. "Oh," he says as he takes in the sight of his boxers. "Pants would be good."    
  
"Yeah. Although there is a tradition of not wearing pants and still kicking ass in this family."   
  
"The only time I'm wearing something that short and skintight is in the bedroom," Tim replies as he runs off to grab a pair of jeans from his bedroom and throw them on. He grabs a hoodie and puts that on too, just in case.   
  
Returning to the living room, Jason gives him a hooded look. "Promise?" he asks.   
  
It takes Tim a moment to remember what he said. He grins. "Promise."  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read Casebook, you'll probably notice the tense change here. I'm debating about keeping it this way for the next one or if I should keep it in the other style (essentially present versus past tense in terms of verb usage). I'm open to feedback.


	20. I drink a ton of water. Filtered water. Filtered through coffee grinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I've done 20 of these things already...I had no idea my list was that long.

Cassandra pokes Tim in his ribs. Hard. He flinches and tries to squirm away from his sister and her second poke, but he’s trapped in his computer chair and flails briefly before falling gracelessly to the floor. 

Tim glares at her. “Why are you here?” He thought that recovering from his cold in the peace and quiet of his own apartment would be good enough for his family, but apparently they decided to bring out the big guns. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” the slender woman intones from where she’s now perched in Tim’s chair. 

“I _was_ resting.” 

“You were working.” 

“Resting is not being out in the field. I got six hours of sleep last night,” he retorts. “That should be enough for Alfred.” 

“Tim, it’s night again. Time for more sleep.” Cass stands and looms over him, perfectly balanced in the rolling computer chair. 

He glances at the clock. It’s after one in the morning. “Would you believe I lost track of time?” he asks hopefully as he stands and tries (and fails) to smother a cough. 

“Knowing you, yes. But sometimes you’re just stubborn.” Cassandra hops down from the chair to stand next to him. “I will put you to bed and stay here until you fall asleep.” 

Tim knows he’s defeated before he can even try. “You’ll be waiting a while then. I just finished a fresh pot of coffee.” 

The grin Cass gives him is downright _vicious._ “Coffee or no coffee, I can still put you to sleep for several hours.” She raises a hand and wiggles her fingers at him. 

He looks at her in horror. “You _wouldn’t_.” 

“I would. Now get upstairs, shower, and get ready for bed.” 

Tim grouses the entire way upstairs and into his bedroom. He knows better than to go up against Cassandra, which would explain why Alfred sent her to check up on him instead of one of the others. The rest of his family, Tim can easily bullshit and manipulate, but not his sister. 

When he’s clean and in fresh pajamas, he finds Cass sitting on his bed with a bottle of water that she promptly throws at him. He catches it on reflex. “Drink it,” she orders. “You’re dehydrated.” 

“I am not,” Tim replies, but he still uncaps the bottle and takes a sip, then another. And another. “Okay, perhaps a little,” he allows after he’s done with half the bottle. 

“You drink too much coffee and not enough water.” 

“I drink a ton of water,” Tim replies cheekily. “Filtered water. Filtered through coffee grinds.” 

Cass grins and it’s not at all a pleasant look. “Finish the water. Or else, when you’re asleep, I’ll call Jason and have him replace all your coffee with tea. That’s much better for you, especially when you’re still sick.” 

“No!” Tim snaps and lunges at the woman, not thinking at all about his actions. 

His sister’s pleased grin is the last thing he remembers. 

*****

When Tim wakes up the next morning (feeling oddly refreshed but he’ll be damned if he admits it to anyone, especially Cass) and stumbles his way through his apartment, he scowls fiercely when he sees his sister sitting at the kitchen table. She smiles and pushes a water bottle across the table towards him. “This or tea,” Cass intones. 

“I make some mean Earl Gray, though with that cold, chamomile and mint, or even ginger and lemon would be better.” 

Tim turns to see Jason leaning in the entrance of his kitchen. He doesn’t respond and turns back to Cassandra. “You got rid of my coffee.” 

“I said I would if you didn’t finish that water bottle last night. You didn’t.” 

“You knocked me out before I could.” 

Cass waves a hand, brushing aside the accusation. “Water or tea, Tim?” 

Tim glares at Cassandra and makes a point to turn and glare at Jason too. “Tea. And make it Earl Gray, at least that has some caffeine in it.” 

Jason laughs, low and gravelly. “At least say please,” he says as he brushes past Tim to enter the kitchen. “Even I have better manners than that.” 

“Only when you want something,” Tim mutters as he takes a seat at the table. Cass kicks him lightly and gives him a pointed look. He scowls hard. “Please.”

 


	21. Let me finish my coffee and then I’ll listen to whatever you’re whining about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't claim sleep deprivation for this one.

It’s a stare off. Tim knows it. Jason knows it. And Tim wishes with every fiber of his very _being_ that he had two hands, two legs, and opposable thumbs right now because he knows the other man is taunting him _on purpose_. 

Tim whines as he stares up at the mug Jason’s holding. 

“What’s that, Replacement? You want some of this?” He takes a sip. “Let me finish my coffee and then I’ll listen to whatever you’re whining about now,” he chortles. 

Another whine, this time with the wide, glistening brown eyes Tim’s seen almost every dog he’s ever encountered do when they’re _begging_. Look what he’s been reduced to. 

Jason seems to be _immune._ “I normally hate this crap, but someone’s gotta keep an eye on you. Let you outside to do your business. Make sure the dog catchers don’t pick your dumb ass up and take you to the pound.” 

The whine becomes a low growl deep in the back of Tim’s throat. 

“Don’t give me that shit.” Jason sets the mug down on the counter and leans against it, crossing his arms. “I called Zatarra like you asked. I didn’t call any of the others, though God knows I’m tempted because you’re a pain in the ass. I thought dogs were supposed to be man’s best friend?” 

Tim flops to the floor with a resigned whine. It wasn’t like he _asked_ to be shot in the face by a rogue magician and turned into a black Labrador. He should consider himself lucky Jason was there and saw the whole thing, because otherwise, he’d be seriously screwed right about now. Zatarra had laughed his ass off when he arrived at Tim’s apartment before telling them the spell should wear off in a day or so. 

Jason then decided he needed to stay and _dog-sit_. Since Tim couldn’t open the door to go outside or feed himself now. 

So here they are, six hours in and Jason had broken into Tim’s coffee stash and made a pot, _just because he could_ , to drink in front of the canine Tim. 

“You know,” Jason says thoughtfully as he picks up the mug again and takes another sip. “This isn’t so bad. You keep the good stuff around.” 

Tim can’t help it. It’s like his new body has a mind of it’s own. He rolls over onto his back and _whines_ pitifully. 

Jason chokes as he tries not to laugh. “Christ, Replacement, you’re going to kill me here. You do know caffeine is lethal for dogs, right?” 

_Whine_. Tim forces his body to roll back over and, gaining his feet, slowly lumbers out of his kitchen, tail dejectedly hanging between his legs. He _knows_. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting his coffee any less.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be surprised if this becomes a longer story at some point. :P


	22. Even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all.

Tim knows he’s spoiled. He was raised in wealth and even after his father lost said fortune, he was still around it thanks to being Robin. And when Bruce took him in again after his father’s murder, well, it just became a part of life.

He tries hard to behave like a normal person though and succeeds at it more often than not. But there are times, like right now, that he wants to whine, stick up his nose, and channel his inner Damian.

“What is this?” he asks, looking curiously up at the waitress.

“Coffee,” she replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She points at the chipped white mug filled with piping hot black liquid. “You ordered it, right?”

Across the table from him, Stephanie grins.

“Yeeees,” Tim says slowly, wondering if maybe he should have ordered something else. Whatever is in that mug, that’s not coffee. He should know. He _lives_ on the stuff. He orders it online from a specialty retailer and has it shipped to his home where he has a coffeemaker that survived his rigorous testing to make sure it brewed the perfect cup. When he’s desperate, he’ll deign to go to a coffee shop for his precious drink, but it never tastes right.

Stephanie starts giggling. Tim knows that if he doesn’t back down now, it’s going to be a full-fledged cackle in a moment.

“It’s fine,” he says quickly. “Could I get some cream and sugar, please?”

The bored looking waitress shrugs her shoulders and wanders off.

“Shut up before you hurt yourself,” Tim glares at his so-called friend.

“But Tim! The look on your face when you picked up that mug and did that little wafty, smelly thing you do!” Stephanie waves her hand under her noise for emphasis. “Oh my god, you are such a snob!”

Tim rolls his eyes and accepts the two little dishes the waitress brings back. One is jam packed full of different types of sugar and sugar substitutes. The other…well, at least the creamer is liquid and not a powder.

“This is why I hate road trips,” he gripes as the waitress walks away. “I always get sub-par coffee.”

“Tim, honey, not all coffee is made equal.”

“It should be.” He doctors the cup the best he can, but even two little containers of creamer and two packets of sugar can’t help make it palatable.

The food comes and they’re quickly lost in surprisingly good waffles.

Before they leave, Tim grumbles in disgust as he drinks a second cup of the viscous brew. Stephanie laughs so hard at him that she almost falls out of the booth. But he needs the caffeine. He and Steph have been on the road all night and they’re still three hours from Gotham.

Even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can totally see Tim testing different coffeepots and experimenting with different types of beans to find the best ones. :P


	23. I've started drinking coffee out of a clear mug so people can see where my tolerance level is at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -_- This was a night of if it could go wrong, it did. Here, have a drabble. -_-

_From the Stupid Is Strong With This One 'verse_  
  
Tim gapes at the computer screen and the chat going on in front of him (on the other one, he has a long neglected game of Free Cell waiting for him to return to). "Oh my God," he wails quietly. "Why? Why? Why? _Why?_ "  
  
"Remember to breathe, Timmy," Dick says oh so helpfully from his cubicle.   
  
Sucking in a deep breath, Tim glares at his monitor and types furiously for a moment. "I swear to God, I need to figure out how to reach through my computer and _throttle_ someone."  
  
"If you figure that out, be sure to share," Jason chimes in. "It'll give a whole new meaning to reach out and punch someone."  
  
"I think you mean reach out and _touch_ someone," Dick replies.   
  
"No, I'm pretty sure my way is better."  
  
Tim ignores the escalating argument in favor of the moron in front of him. He can only deal with one set of stupid at a time. He has a limit. It should be a daily limit that resets, but the only way that happens is when he takes a vacation.   
  
Speaking of which, he hasn't had one for a while. Bruce almost cried the last time he submitted one for approval and he wimped out, falling for that act.   
  
Not this time.  
  
Tim minimizes his game and opens the vacation calendar.   
  
The idiot on the other monitor continues to blather nonsense. He's one of those people that thinks he knows what he's doing but really has no clue and is only making himself out to be more and more of a jackass.  
  
"Tim?" Stephanie asks cautiously from behind him. "You okay, hon?"  
  
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" he almost snaps in reply. He reaches for his coffee and scowls when nothing comes pouring out and down his throat.  
  
"Do we need to break out the clear mug again?" the normally bubbly blonde asks.   
  
Tim knows that the mug in question is only brought out for special occasions. Special _stay the eff away from Tim_ occasions that don't involve human contact until the mug in question is below a certain line.  
  
It's the signal that he needs a vacation.   
  
"Yes," he replies sullenly, the proceeds to tell the moron in his chat that he’s opening a ticket, that someone will call him during the day, and hangs up. He feels no guilt in doing this and hopes the day team wakes the bastard up.  
  
Stephanie gets up and, a few minutes later, places the mug on his desk. It's full of coffee.   
  
Tim looks at it in surprise and looks at the clock. "You broke the 1am rule."  
  
The young woman smiles at him and his stomach turns somersaults in response. "I think it's deserved tonight. You're vocalizing your thoughts again."  
  
"Oh." Tim picks up the clear mug and carefully takes a sip.   
  
"Hey, Timmy! Where's your tolerance level at?" Jason asks loudly. "I got a dumbass who swears up and down he's done everything I've told him to but obviously he hasn't because if he had, I'd be done with him already."  
  
Tim holds up the mug so Jason can see it and submits his vacation request. Two weeks should be enough. If he really wanted to torture his team, he’d take four. He’s got the time for it.   
  
"Shit," he hears the man mutter. "Bruce! Time to earn your keep!"  
  
In his cubicle, Bruce quietly groans as Tim's long overdue request for a vacation pops into his inbox. Judging from the conversation he's been overhearing for the last several minutes, he's not going to be able to stall the young programmer again.   
  
Not when the clear mug is present on his desk. Tim's tolerance levels can now be solely measured by the amount of coffee he's drank.

Bruce approves the request without even looking at the dates. Somehow, they'll survive without him.

Somehow...

 


	24. There is a time and place for decaf...Never and in the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap...I'm world building again. Enjoy a coffee shop AU! 
> 
> Here's a shout out to D for some of the random trivia about coffee roasts. And the sign is coming! :D Also to odd_izzy who really likes the idea for TA!Jason and EnglishStudent!Tim.

Tim likes working in the small coffee shop that's about a mile off the university campus. It's just far enough that it's not swamped with people in his age bracket (always a good thing in his book) and he gets free coffee (which he doesn't partake in as much as people who know him would like to believe).  
  
It's the perfect job for him as he works his way through his undergrad program at Gotham University. He prefers the closing shift even though it tends to be slower and he gets fewer tips. There's more time for him to study but it also gives him a chance to talk to the people who come through the front door. Not that all of them do.   
  
The girls are easy to talk to. A smile here, some eye contact there, and an encouraging nod has them eating out of his hand in no time. Tim knows he's good looking in a nerdy sort of way when he bothers to wear his contacts, so that always plays in his favor (and his tips). Or it would if he were interested. Every phone number he's given goes in the trash before he leaves at the end of his shift.   
  
His best friend Kon always tells him he should give him the numbers. Tim just rolls his eyes as he wouldn't wish Kon on any unsuspecting woman.   
  
The guys though, the few that do try and flirt with him, make him stutter. Tim always walks away from the register with his ears burning while he makes their drinks. He's never gotten a number from them before but he did get the screen name of someone he chatted up one night who plays the same online game he loves. They had met online after he'd gotten off and formed a raiding party that totally kicked ass.   
  
One slow night not long after the fall semester of his senior year starts, Tim's sitting behind the counter with his tablet reading. He's finally gotten around to his required English courses that most people get out of the way their freshman year rather than their senior year. He doesn't care though, it's easy, if brainless work which he can totally use with everything else he has going on with his capstone project. The only issue he has is that he's never been much into English literature. Jane Austen and Tim Drake don't get along.   
  
The only thing that makes the class tolerable is his TA. Grad students and doctoral candidates often teach the 101 and 102 level English courses for their work-study programs and his class is no different. What makes him pay attention in his 8am class (an ungodly hour of the day in his opinion but this is what happens when he registers at the last minute) is Jason Todd. The sinfully handsome grad student who's the biggest lit nerd he's ever met that regularly goes to the gym.   
  
Yeah, Tim's a bit obsessed with him. And his shoulders. And the white streak in his hair. And he's just going to stop now because there's no way someone like Jason would ever look twice at a scrawny computer dork like him.  
  
Even though he's practically the only person in class who participates in the discussions. After his first class with the man, he'd made damn sure he's properly caffeinated at ass o'clock in the morning so that he can hold a coherent conversation. Jason loves to argue what's obviously a favorite genre for him while Tim enjoys picking a part his case for why Jane Austen is relevant to today's audience.   
  
Their debates are almost legendary and way over the heads of most of the class. They even continued one after class last week in the courtyard outside the English department that resulted in both of them being late to their next classes. Tim's pretty sure the man hates him because he challenges almost everything that comes out of his mouth about his favorite writer.   
  
Which kind of sucks because he just turned in his first paper for the class yesterday and he's a bit nervous about how Jason's going to grade it. The man has a rep for ripping papers apart that would do the most tenured professors proud.   
  
The bell rings at the front door as someone enters.   
  
Looking up from his reading, Tim's mouth drops open, then quickly snaps shut as the man he's just been thinking about walks in carrying his backpack and a motorcycle helmet. He's dressed for the gym, which blows his mind because those thighs in those gym shorts ought to be outlawed.   
  
He fumbles with his tablet as he stands up.   
  
To Jason's credit, he looks surprised too as he approaches the counter. "Hey, Tim," he says with an easy smile that make Tim's knees turn to jelly. It's not a smile that's ever been directed at him before.   
  
"Hi, Jason." Tim tries to copy the smile and is pretty sure he fails horribly.   
  
The grad student doesn't seem to notice (or care, it's hard to tell with him). "I know this is gonna make me sound like an idiot, but this is where you work?"  
  
The lame question garners a real smile from Tim. "Yeah. I live on caffeine so it's rather appropriate."  
  
"I've never seen you without a travel mug in class." Jason smirks but Tim can't help being surprised by his statement. The fall term has been in session for a month and he only sees Jason on Tuesdays and Thursdays (which is not enough time in his opinion, but hey, he’s the one who’s secretly obsessing over the other man).  
  
But that statement…Jason’s been paying attention to him. To the little things.   
  
Rather than let himself get flustered, Tim changes the topic. "So what can I make for you?" he asks, trying to sound professional.   
  
"Whaddya got for tea?" Jason replies with his own question, his teal eyes scanning the board over Tim's head. Outside the classroom, his lower Gotham accent is much stronger.   
  
Tim points out the tea list. He's slightly disappointed he can't show off his mastery of the espresso machine but it doesn't surprise him at all that the other man is a tea drinker. It fits in an odd way, just like his love of romantic English literature and Shakespeare.   
  
"I'll try that green mint tea. I just want something warm; I don't need to be bouncing off the walls all night."   
  
Tim gives him a mock glare as he rings him up. "You trying to imply something?" He gestures to the cup of coffee he'd been slowly working on as he tried to get a head in his reading. It's a darker roast so it's not quite as strong in terms of caffeine, but at night, that's fine. The lighter roast is for morning and his coffee pot as he rushes out of his dorm room.   
  
"Just that too much coffee will keep you up all night. Gotta sleep sometime, Tim." Jason grins harder. "Besides, we got class in the morning. Perhaps decaf would be better."  
  
"You know, we've got a saying around here that decaf has it’s own time and place," Tim replies as he fills the tall cup with hot water and places two tea bags in it.   
  
"And what's that?"   
  
Tim's grin grows sharp. "Never and in the trash."  
  
Jason starts laughing, loud and bright and surprisingly infectious as Tim finds himself laughing too.   
  
"Oh man, that's a good one," the other man says as he accepts the cup from Tim. "Do I even wanna know how strong your morning coffee is?"  
  
Tim shrugs. "Pretty strong. I've never been a morning person. Even when I get a full nights sleep, I'm like that in the morning."  
  
"Then why take such an early class?" Jason leans against the counter and takes the lid off his tea, blowing on the still steaming liquid. He doesn't seem in any hurry to go anywhere.   
  
It's nice, talking with the man and not arguing. "Last minute thing," he replies a bit sheepishly as he picks up his coffee mug. "My advisor reminded me I needed to take my English courses if I want to graduate in the spring."   
  
"So that's it," Jason nods thoughtfully. "You didn't seem like the type of senior who failed freshman year. You don’t behave like one either.”

“I’ve always been told I have a smart mouth,” Tim comments with a wry smile. “It gets even worse when I’m tired.”

Jason’s gaze drops to his mouth momentarily then flickers back up to his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed,” he grins roguishly.

They chat for a while longer, staying on safe topics like the benefits of tea versus coffee (that almost erupts into a new debate before they both rein themselves in), why Jason feels the need to wear gym shorts when he obviously rides a motorcycle (it’s a short ride from the gym to his off campus apartment that’s just down the street from the coffee shop), and yes, Tim really is that good with computers and he’d be glad to clean up the hard drive on Jason’s beat up laptop to see if he can’t get one more year out it.

It’s a good night, Tim decides as he closes things down after Jason leaves. They’d talked for well over an hour with only a few pauses for last minute drinks from other paying customers who’d wandered in. He highly doubts the other man would have done that if he hated him like he’d thought before. At the same time, Tim also realizes he’s in deep shit because his little obsession with his TA has now sprung into a full-fledged crush.

Sometimes he just wants to curse his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be continued...


	25. Coffee has given me unrealistic expectations for productivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more college/coffee shop AU! :D

The following Wednesday, Jason arrives at the coffee shop once again dressed in gym clothes, but he also has his laptop with him. 

“I’m not sure what all you can do with it here,” he says sheepishly as he takes it out of his backpack and hands it over. “But anything’s gonna be an improvement at this point.” 

Tim accepts the battered computer warily. The poor machine is held together on one side with duct tape. He winces at the sight. “Do I want to know how this happened?” he asks, gesturing to the tape. 

“I had a disagreement with it,” Jason replies blandly. 

“And you did what? Toss it out the window?” Tim turns it on and waits as it loads up. 

“Kicked it across the parking lot. In my defense, I was drunk at the time and it seemed like a good idea.” 

Tim’s laugh has a bitter edge to it. “Yeah, been there, done that.” He’d outed himself in front his friends the first and last time he’d ever gotten drunk. Most of them took it well and didn’t care one way or another (Kon being the best of best friends at the news and not caring one bit), but there was one who hadn’t taken it well and thought every time Tim so much as looked at him that he was hitting on him. Their friendship didn’t last much longer. 

The computer finally opens to the start screen. “When was the last time you backed up your files?” 

“Um…” Jason rubs his hand over the back of his head and looks chagrined. 

“Right,” Tim shakes his head and smirks. “Let grab my bag.” 

Over the next hour, he manages to back up all of Jason’s files onto his cloud storage through the coffee shop’s hidden and secure wi-fi network and starts checking a few things. One thing he notices immediately is how old the operating system is. “When was the last time you updated this?” he asks. 

They’re sitting at one of the small tables in the shop, Tim with his coffee and Jason with his tea. The man’s got a pile of papers in front of him and a red pen. The papers aren’t for his class (he’d gotten his back already, with an A no less), but the other class he teaches. He’d said last week that he staggers when papers are due so he doesn’t get backed up. 

“Um…” is Jason’s yet again brilliant reply. 

Tim chuckles as he gives his TA an amused look. “You know nothing about computers, do you?” 

“Nope,” the man replies. “I got this one refurbished a few years ago. I keep the antivirus program up to date!” He grins at that, looking proud of himself. 

Rolling his eyes, Tim shakes his head. “You’re hopeless.” 

“Well, now I have you, Timmy. Save my computer and I’ll make ya dinner some night. I get paid shit, even with two jobs, so it’s about all I can do.” 

The thought of spending time with Jason outside of class or the coffee shop is appealing in so many ways. Tim swallows as his mind races in several different directions. “One dinner, huh? I make a killing doing this around the dorm.” 

“Yeah?” Jason looks interested. “How much you fleece those morons for?” 

“Depends on what they’ve done. Most of them download some virus or other by going to web sites they shouldn’t or clicking on ads or links in emails even my dad knows better than to open.” Computer illiteracy is a thing and it drives him nuts. “The more stupid it is, the higher it costs to fix. Repeat offenders get charged double.” 

Jason laughs at that. “See a lot of those?” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Why don’t the idiots take it to campus tech support? I know they’ve got some free services.” 

“Same reason you’re coming to me. They’re backed up and I’m faster.” Tim grins as the defrag _finally_ starts. “Any chance you can leave this with me tonight? I can do more if I take it back to the dorm with me later.” 

“Will I get it back tomorrow?” 

“Yep.” 

“Fine by me. So how about one dinner per hour it takes you to fix this?” Jason offers. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I get paid shit. There’s a reason I bartend on the weekend.” 

The image of Jason tending bar darts through Tim’s mind. With his easy smile, good looks, and fantastic body, he probably makes a killing in tips. 

“Sounds fair to me.” 

*****

The next morning, Tim staggers into class. He’s exhausted and even the second cup of coffee he’s sipping from isn’t helping. He’d stayed up all night with Jason’s laptop. The damn thing is hanging on with a wish and a prayer and there’s no way it’s going to last the year the man wants it to. 

He takes his normal seat and leans against the wall, closing his eyes as he waits for Jason to arrive and class to start. He wakes up to someone calling his name. 

“Hey, Drake, you awake?” 

“Wha? Huh?” Tim stammers. He’d fallen asleep. Dammit. He looks up to see Jason standing over him and half the class’s attention on him as well. 

Jason smirks, looking ungodly perfect for 8 freaking o’clock in the morning. “Coffee not kickin’ in yet?” 

Tim glares and picks up his travel mug, taking a sip to stall and try to come up with something witty. He decides the hell with it and blurts out the first thing he thinks of. “Coffee has given me unrealistic expectations for productivity this morning.” 

Wow, that was pretty good. 

Jason seems to agree as he laughs and wanders off to sharpen his wit on some poor unsuspecting freshman. 

After class, Tim packs up slowly (not that he even remembers unpacking his bag at all, he’s still surprised he remembered to bring his messenger bag in the first place). He’s the last one out, with Jason on his heels. 

“All joking aside, are you all right?” he asks as they walk down the crowded hallway, heading for the exit and the courtyard beyond. 

“I will be once I get some sleep,” Tim replies when they’re outside. He stops at a bench and reaches into his bag to pull out the damaged laptop. 

Jason accepts it and gives him a knowing look. “How late did you stay up?” 

“I never went to bed,” Tim retorts with a jaw-breaking yawn. “I don’t have another class until 2, so that’s where I’m gonna be until then.” He picks up his bag, gives Jason a wave, and wanders off. 

*****

Jason stares after the young man, wincing when he almost runs into a pole and swerves at the last second before he turns the corner and is out of sight. He looks at the laptop in his hands and notices a piece of paper sticking out from under the lid. There’s a thumb drive taped to the lid as well. 

Pulling it out, he sees it’s a note from Tim. 

_J-  
_

_I did my best, but if you get six months out of this thing, count yourself lucky. There are some parts that are beyond repair and even though I updated the OS, it’s still going to run slow. Save your work to the USB drive instead. I put all your files on there from last night and there’s still plenty of space.  
_

_-T_

Tim had stayed up all night trying to repair a laptop even he knew was better off serving as a paperweight. He didn’t have to, but he did, which was telling in and of itself. But it isn’t the confirmation Jason wants. The younger man is hard to read, but he’s pretty certain there’s some interest on his side. 

Not that he can act on it right now, not as Tim’s instructor. He sighs and puts his laptop in his backpack. He’s got an hour to kill before his next class, but then his day is wide open until he has to go to work later. As Jason walks away, he remembers that he promised Tim one meal for each hour he spent working on the computer. By his calculations, that’s going to be eight meals at least. 

He grins at the prospect. Tonight’s out of the question, but he’s off at 10 tomorrow night and he remembers Tim telling him that the coffee shop closes at 11 on Fridays. And that he works the closing shift. 

The saying goes that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Jason wonders if it’s true for Tim. If it is, he’s got eight tries to get it get right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not the end! :P


	26. Not sure if this headache is from too much coffee. Or not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More college/coffee shop AU!
> 
> I thought this one rather appropriate today, considering the headaches I've had the last several days. This was written last week before all that happened and I just remembered it.

Tim’s used to pulling all-nighters, but there are times when he wishes he would learn to say no to the little inner voice that says _just ten more minutes_. He fully blames that little voice for the inadvertent all-nighter he pulled on Wednesday and he’s still paying for it come Friday.

Kon, the bastard, teases the crap out of him, when he finds out why he’d been up all night.

“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” he comments from his side of the room. He’s sprawled out on the bed with notes all over the place from one of his classes. The young man is working on a degree in physical education and sports therapy, so it’s not uncommon to see him hang a blown up diagram of the human body on his wall. As a joke, Tim had replaced it once with Da Vinci’s _the Vitruvian Man_ to see if his friend would notice.

It took him a week.

“Tell me about it,” Tim replies, typing away at his desk, working on homework for his programming class. “What sucks is that I have no idea if he’s even into guys.”

“Yeah, because that’s your problem,” Kon says with an arch look. “He’s your freaking TA. _Your instructor_. Pretty sure there are rules against shit like that, Tim.”

“I can dream,” he retorts defensively. “And December will be here soon enough.”

Kon laughs at that. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s only half way through September.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, that’s what you want Jason to do to you. C’mon, man, we need to distract you or somethin’ this weekend. You’re off at 11 tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Tim replies sullenly. He knows that Kon’s idea of distracting him is dragging him out to some bar so he can play the gay wingman to pick up girls.

“Plenty of time then before last call. Let’s go somewhere where we can _both_ potentially have some fun.”

That’s new. Tim looks over at his best friend. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You need to get Jason out of your head. Plenty of fish in the sea and when you’re done with that damn class, then you can reel him in.” Kon grins broadly.

It’s not a bad idea. He highly doubts it’s going to be as easy as Kon makes it sound, but what does he have to lose? “Fine,” he agrees. “I’ll bring a change of clothes tonight and you can pick me up from work.”

“It’ll be great, Tim. Just wait and see!”

*****

At 10:45, Kon comes marching into the coffee shop. He’s dressed for a night out, black jeans and a blue shirt that so snug, Tim’s positive he must have busted a seam putting it on. He only breaks that shirt out for one person.

“Cassie’s going to be wherever we’re going tonight, isn’t she?” Tim asks from behind the counter. He’d just finished making a bunch of frappes and has his hands full with the dirty blenders.

“Yeah!” the man replies brightly. “One of these days, man, she’s gonna say yes to this!” He gestures to himself. Kon’s been chasing after Cassie for the better part of a year. Tim knows she’s interested, but his best friend has a reputation for being a flirt and has a wandering eye, so he can’t blame her for stringing him along to make sure he’s not playing around.

Shaking his head, Tim heads to the back and dumps the empty blenders in the sink to rinse them out. He hears the front door bell ring again, but he’s up to his elbows in hot water. “I’ll be there in a sec!” he shouts.

Drying his hands off on a paper towel, he returns to the front, only to stop short when he reaches the counter.

Jason’s standing there, dressed in a worn leather jacket that’s hanging open revealing a black shirt underneath that could rival Kon’s blue one.

“Hey, Tim!” he says with that easy smile that still makes his knees turn to jelly. Exposure to it has not given him immunity.

“Hi, Jason,” Tim replies quickly, glancing over at the table Kon’s sitting and waiting at. His mouth has dropped wide open. “What brings you in tonight?”

The man pushes a plastic bag with something in it towards him. “I promised you dinner. One for each hour you worked on my laptop. Since you were up all night, I’m guessing that’s gonna be about seven or eight?”

Tim gapes and Kon’s eyes widen as he tries hard not to snicker. “You made me dinner?” he squeaks out. He clears his throat and tries again. “You seriously made me food?”

“Yeah?” Jason says, looking uncertain now. “I said I would. I’m no gourmet chef, but it’s gotta be better than the meal plan you’re on in the dorms.”

Reaching out, he picks up the plastic bag and opens it up, revealing a sealed container. “Wow. You made me food.” He looks up again, knowing his eyes are wide in amazement.

“Let me know if you like it, I wasn’t sure what you’d eat.”

Tim stares some more at the container and Kon finally breaks down, guffawing loud and long. “Dude, you just made a friend for life. Tim’ll eat anything.”

Jason turns to Kon. “Is that so?” he asks questioningly, obviously wondering who this other guy is. Tim’s still too enraptured with his food to care as he opens the lid.

There’s mashed potatoes in there. And meatloaf. And green beans. There’s even another little container tucked into the side with gravy. His mouth waters.

“Yeah.” Kon rises from his seat and walks over, holding out his hand. “I’m Kon, Tim’s roommate. You must be the guy whose computer he obsessed over the other night.”

Tim starts paying attention to the confrontation going on in front of him. He shoots his best friend a warning look. At least Kon hadn’t said that Jason was the guy he’s been obsessing over.

Jason’s heard enough about Kon over the last two Wednesdays that the name should click right away, even if he hadn’t tacked on the part about being his roommate. “Jason,” he replies as he accepts Kon’s hand, giving it what Tim can tell even from here is a firm shake. “I’m the TA for his English class.”

Kon’s grin grows sharp and Tim starts wishing he could shoot lasers from his eyes. His friend is a dead man if he says what he knows he’s itching to say.

“Do you usually make meals for your students?” he asks.

Jason’s smile is full of rough edges. “Only the ones who repair my computer.”

Tim can feel a headache brewing. He’s not sure if it’s from too much coffee earlier or not enough, but it’s also not an uncommon phenomenon when dealing with Kon and his attempts to mess with his head. He puts the lid back on the container and glances at the clock.

10:55.

Close enough.

“Jason, I’m about to close, do you want some tea before I lock up?”

The staring contest (pissing contest) between the two large men in front of him stops as Jason breaks his stare-off with Kon and turns his attention back on Tim. “Yeah, that sounds good. Been a long evening and I could use something to unwind.”

“You were working your other job tonight?” Tim asks as he pours the hot water.

Jason nods. “Had to call the cops on a bunch of underage kids when they wouldn’t leave. That always makes for a long night.”

“Fake IDs?” Kon chimes in.

“Yeah,” Jason shakes his head. “Not sure where they got ‘em, but whoever made them did a craptastic job.”

They all share a chuckle over that and Tim slides the cardboard protector over the tall paper cup. He’s already put in the usual green tea and mint blend Jason prefers. “No charge,” he says as he hands it over.

“Thanks.” The man eyes Kon again as he accepts the cup from Tim. “You guys going out tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Kon says with a shrug. There’s a glint in his eye that sets Tim on edge. “I’ve got a girl I’m trying to prove something to and Tim just needs a nice guy to take him home and show him a good time.”

“ _Kon_ ,” Tim growls warningly, clenching his fists and standing rigid. He’s pissed. He’s beyond pissed. He’s _furious_. Conner Kent is a dead man.

Jason glances over at him, an unreadable look on his face before he smirks, looking pleased about something. “Well, I’m not planning to go to bed anytime soon, so if you can’t find anyone to at least take you home, drop me a text. I’ll come pick you up.” He reaches out and picks up a pen and a napkin from the counter and writes something down.

He nods at Kon, then walks out of the coffee shop.

Tim stares in awe and amazement at the napkin as he reverently picks it up. On it is Jason’s phone number. His actual phone number and not the university assigned one he put in the syllabus for the mailbox he uses for his classes.

“You’re welcome,” Kon says with a grin. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like there will be one more part to this short story. Or rather, one more part and an short epilogue.


	27. Why, yes, I could start my day without coffee. But I like being able to remember things like how to say words and put on pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Four of my College/Coffee Shop AU! 
> 
> Also, a note on age...Tim's a senior in college, so he's 21 already.

It’s not often that Tim drinks anymore, not after the first time. But tonight, rather than head to the dance floor where Cassie and her friends are hanging out, he makes a beeline to the bar and immediately orders a shot of whiskey. He’d developed a taste for it through his father, who’d always had a bottle of good scotch whiskey on hand in his study. He’d started pouring a drink for Tim when he was sixteen after they both were stuffed stupid from Thanksgiving. 

Kon, to his credit, follows his best friend rather than scope out the blonde woman he’s been trying to attract for months. “Dude, come on. You sure you should be drinking that?” 

“I have a full stomach,” Tim retorts, gesturing for another one after he slams back the first one. It burns so good. 

The food had been delicious. He’s still in shock that Jason had cooked _for him_. It’s easier to believe than the fact that he now has Jason’s phone number programmed into his phone (the napkin is tucked away carefully in his messenger bag like the treasure it is). 

The second whiskey goes down easier. It’s cheap stuff, but Tim doesn’t care. He’s not planning to get drunk. Tipsy, yes. Drunk, no. He glares once more at Kon. He hadn’t spoken to him at all on the way to the club. “I still can’t believe you did that. You asshole.” 

Kon holds his hands up in defense. “I may be oblivious to a lot of things, but even I’m not blind to the fact that your TA is totally into you. Did you see the look he gave me before he found out who I was? He was sizing up the competition."

“Like there’s any competition,” Tim rolls his eyes. “You’re straighter than an arrow.” 

“And proud of it!” Kon crows. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not lookin’ out for you. Seriously, he’s got it as bad as you do! You’re a fucking moron if you don’t text him later to come get you!” 

Tim shakes his head. “He’s my _TA_. You said earlier that I need to forget about him until the end of the year.” 

“Dude, that was before I met him. _He cooks._ Next time he brings you food, see if you can’t get him to make extra for me. That smelled awesome.” 

He slaps down some money on the bar and heads down to the dance floor. There’s a lot going on in his head and losing himself to the music and the beat sounds like the perfect escape. 

It’s not long before a pretty blonde girl sidles up to him. Tim grins, recognizing Kara, Cassie’s best friend and Kon’s cousin. She’s very likely the source of the information about Cassie’s whereabouts tonight. Most of the time, she thinks Kon’s a moron, but she knows he has a good heart. 

“Heard quite the story from my cousin,” she yells loudly in the direction of his ear as she wraps her arms around his neck. 

Tim settles his hands on Kara’s slender waist, feeling warm skin as he does. She has a thing for micro miniskirts and crop tops when she’s dancing, but heaven forbid someone lay a hand on her where she doesn’t want it. Kara’s been learning Krav Maga from Cassie and her cousins, Diana and Donna. 

“Did that include the part where he embarrassed the crap out of me?” he shouts back. 

“Yup! Kon managed to make this guy sound hot too! Is he really your TA?” 

Sometimes Kon has a big mouth. Luckily, it’s only around their closest friends, so Tim’s not worried about this getting out and causing issues for him or Jason. 

“He puts Donna’s friend Dick to shame!” Cassie’s cousin Donna is a photographer, so on the few times Tim’s met her, they clicked immediately. One of her favorite models is also her best guy friend, Dick. Odd name, but the man’s the most handsome guy Tim’s ever met, as well as being one of the nicest. 

Kara’s blue eyes widen. She’s met Dick many times, so she _knows_. Tim also knows she harbors a little crush on him, which, to be fair, he did too the first time they met. 

“Wow! Good for you, hon! Is he really your TA though?” she asks again. 

Rather than shout, Tim simply nods. 

The blonde pouts and pulls him in closer, hugging him now. “That sucks. Let me buy you a drink.” 

Tim lets her lead him off the dance floor and back to the bar. 

Over the course of the night, the other girls from their group all do the same, so Tim’s more than a bit tipsy by the time last call is made. 

Just after 2, Kara and Kon take him outside. They get their hands stamped on the way out so they can get back in, but they stop the bouncer from doing the same to Tim’s. 

He gives them a questioning look. 

“You’re going home, Tim,” Kara says with a knowing smile. She ruffles his sweat dampened hair. 

“How’z that?” he tries to say and grimaces as it slurs. He’d had some water before they left, but obviously it’s not enough to balance the alcohol in his system. 

“We called you a ride,” Kon grins. “Should be here any minute.” He hands Tim his phone. 

Tim looks at it in confusion. This is _his_ phone. He raises his eyes and glares levelly at his friends, a growing suspicion rising in his gut. Before he can rip their heads off, he hears the sound of a motorcycle pulling up behind him. 

Kon smirks and waves, leaving him with Kara as he brushes past them. 

“Holy crap, you weren’t kidding,” she breathes as her eyes settle on the figure behind him. 

Tim turns. And stares. And stares some more. Jason sitting on his motorcycle wearing in his riding leathers and pulling off his helmet is possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life. He’s talking with Kon, but his teal eyes are locked on him. 

“I’m screwed,” he mutters. 

“You let me know what that’s like, got it? For your sake, I hope that bike’s not compensating for something.” 

It’s not. Tim’s seen Jason in gym shorts before. They don’t hide much. 

Somehow, Tim soon finds himself on the back of Jason’s bike, an extra helmet on his head, and holding on for dear life as they ride down the streets of Gotham. He’s thankful for the helmet, because it hides just how much he wants to bury his face in the leather of his jacket. It’s bad enough he has his arms wrapped around the man’s waist. 

Jason is solid and warm and Tim’s positive that if he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. 

When they stop, Tim doesn’t recognize the building they’re parked in front of. He’s still too boozed up to care and he lets Jason help him off the motorcycle and up a flight of stairs. Inside what he’s realizing is _Jason’s apartment_ , he starts sobering up a little as a flood of adrenaline rushes through his body. 

This can’t be happening. 

Can it? 

Jason pulls the helmet off Tim’s head and laughs quietly at his dazed look. “Come on, take a seat over there and see if you can get your shoes off.” He gestures to a sofa. 

Tim stumbles over and somehow figures out how to untie his shoes and take them off. By the time he does, Jason’s back with a tall glass of water. “Drink all of this,” he says as he hands him the glass. 

He listens and follows the instructions. A rather pressing need suddenly overcomes him. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

Jason points to a closed door and Tim dashes across the room, more steady on his feet than he expected. He relieves himself and washes up the best he can in the unfamiliar room. 

When he comes out, there’s another glass of water waiting for him on the coffee table in front of the sofa and some blankets and a pillow have appeared. Jason hands him a t-shirt and a pair of those gym shorts he’s been ogling him in for the last two weeks. “You can change out here,” he says and slips past Tim into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

Common sense is finally starting to return. Jason may not have taken him back to his dorm, but he didn’t bring him home to do something they’d both regret later. Tim changes quickly and takes a seat on the sofa. He drinks some more water and lies down, pulling the blankets up as he does. 

He’s passed out before Jason returns. 

*****

Tim awakens the next morning with a headache and daylight hitting his face at just the right angle to be annoying. He rolls over and just manages to catch himself from falling off the sofa he’s sleeping on. 

Sofa. 

Not his bed. 

Where is he? 

And more importantly, where’s the bathroom? 

He struggles with the blankets before he untangles himself and sits up. Looking around, he doesn’t recognize anything. It’s a small apartment, little more than a studio. There are bookcases everywhere, all piled high with books to the point where the shelves are overflowing. A full sized bed is tucked over in the corner, no frame, just a box spring and a mattress. It’s made too, so it’s no help in determining whose apartment he’s in. 

On the coffee table, there’s a full glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a note in a bold block print he knows all too well from having seen it on the whiteboard in his English class. His stomach roils. 

Tim picks it up. 

_T-  
_

_If you wake up while I’m gone, don’t wreck my kitchen in your quest for coffee. My apartment is a coffee-free zone. I’ll be back soon with breakfast.  
_

_-J_

Oh shit. He’s in _Jason’s apartment_. How that hell did that happen? 

But as memory of last night returns, he now remembers where the bathroom is and he once again runs across the living room and slams the door shut. He takes care of his business and stares thoughtfully at the shower before deciding fuck it and turns it on. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

The water feels wonderful and his headache starts to recede. 

Tim’s forcefully trying not to focus on where he is and instead tries to recall everything that happened last night. He’ll need to check is his phone, but if he’s right, then Kon and Kara are dead. The specifics of their demise will be determined later once he’s done apologizing profusely to Jason. 

His thoughts come full circle. Jason. He’s in Jason’s apartment, wearing _his_ clothes, sleeping on _his_ sofa, and currently standing in _his_ shower. This goes beyond the relationship between TA and student. Even if nothing happened, Jason could get in serious trouble if this gets out. 

It sucks, hard, but Tim knows nothing can happen between them until the semester is over. Because if there’s one thing he learned from last night, it’s that Jason _is_ interested. And there’s a mind-blowing thought right there. His bookworm/gym rat of a TA is interested in _him_ with all his computer geek glory. 

He turns off the water and pulls back the shower curtain. 

There’s a folded towel sitting on the edge of the sink closest to the shower that hadn’t been there before. He stares at for a moment, then at the closed door. It’s not a large bathroom by any stretch of the imagination, so it would be pretty easy for someone with long arms to reach in set it there without opening the door all the way. 

Which means Jason’s back. 

Fuck. 

Time to face the music. 

By the time he emerges, the blankets and pillow on the sofa have been tossed onto the bed and there’s a bag from McDonald’s sitting on the coffee table. The perfect hangover cure, though Tim doesn’t see any coffee. Jason is sitting on one side of the sofa, watching him closely. 

“Uh…” Tim says awkwardly. He runs a hand through his damp hair. “I’m so sorry about last night. I don’t know what my friends thought they were doing.” 

“Not thinking, that’s pretty obvious. But I’m just as much at fault for giving you my number like that in front of your roommate,” Jason replies. “Do they have any idea what kind of trouble I could get into because of this?” 

“Probably, but they’re not thinking that far ahead.” Tim takes a cautious step forward. The greasy food smells _divine_ right now. 

“No shit.” Jason gestures to the sofa. “Sit your ass down and eat. I’m not gonna kick you out. Not yet.” 

Tim sits, making sure there’s a good amount of space between them. Jason hands him two breakfast sandwiches and pushes a coffee mug full of a dark liquid that he _knows_ is not coffee. 

“What’s this?” he asks, gingerly picking it up and taking a sniff. It doesn’t smell bad. It has to be a tea of some kind, but he’s never seen one this dark before. 

“Proof you don’t need the jet fuel you drink every morning to get your ass outta bed.” 

Tim smirks as he takes a tentative sip. It’s not great, but it’s not bad either. “I _could_ start my day without coffee. But I like being able to remember things like how to say words and put on pants.” 

“You’ve been doin’ pretty good without it so far.” 

Rather than responding, Tim peels back the wrapper on his sandwich and starts eating. 

They sit in silence as they finish their meal. Picking up the mug, Tim leans back into the sofa and stares into its dark depths once more before taking another sip. “So what happens now?” he asks quietly. 

“I can drop you off somewhere close to campus,” Jason offers. 

“The coffee shop is fine. I walk from there to my dorm all the time.” He takes another sip. The tea is growing on him. 

Neither of them speak about what needs to be said. Tim glances over at Jason. The other man is also staring into his mug, his face troubled. 

He sighs. Now or never. “I’m not going to put you in a spot where you could lose your work/study program. I know how much it means to you. I’ll talk to my advisor, see if I can transfer to another class. Or I can see about taking it online instead and transferring the credits. At least then I don’t have to get up so damned early.” He smiles uncertainly, not sure if the bit of levity would help. 

Jason cracks a small smile as he looks up from his mug. “That’s a lot of work when you’re part way through the semester already.”

Tim shrugs nervously. “Yeah. But I’m hopeful it’ll be worth it.” He hides his face behind the mug, sipping from it again. 

“Or…” Jason gives him a meaningful look of his own. “We act like adults about this. We keep our Tuesday and Thursday mornings interesting and then we can revisit this conversation at the end of the semester."

Acting like an adult sucks sometimes. Tim arches an eyebrow. “You do know that the only reason why I even put on actual pants that early in the morning is because of you, right?” 

“It’s appreciated. You’re one of the few that do.” Jason sets down his mug on the cheap coffee table and leans back against the sofa, stretching an arm out over the back as he does. If Tim were to shift just right, he’d feel his fingers on the back of his neck. “I just don’t want you to feel like this was all a waste of effort if things don’t work out.” Between us is left unsaid, but still plainly understood. 

“And if they do, think of all the time we’d have wasted,” Tim counters. “I really don’t want to wait until December.” 

Jason rolls his eyes. “And with the way the English department works, I won’t know what classes I’m leading until the day before the new semester even starts. So we could start something over the break, only be forced to stop if we find out you’re in my class again.” 

Laughing, Tim flops against the back of the couch where Jason’s fingers immediately start toying with his hair. It feels wonderful, having him touch him even that little bit. “That would be just my luck. Seriously, that’s the kind of stuff that happens to me.” 

“And me,” Jason agrees. “So…you’re going to talk to your advisor?” he asks tentatively. 

Tim nods. “I’ll make a pest of myself on Monday.” 

Jason squeezes the back of Tim’s neck lightly, the grip still firm enough to send shockwaves through his body, and then lets go. Tim muffles a whimper at the loss of touch. 

Soon, he tells himself. Soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more installment of this AU, then it'll be done.


	28. Death before decaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to D for the title! :D

A couple weeks later, Tim’s working his usual Friday night closing shift at the coffee shop. It’s almost time to close and he’s done all the cleanup he can do before actually locking the front door, so he sits behind the counter with his tablet, dutifully trying to work his way through the novel he’s been assigned for the new online English course he’d started on Monday. He’s not connecting with the novel, not at all, though truth be told, he never connected with the Jane Austen novel he’d read for Jason’s English class either. 

Just Jason. 

Tim stares blankly at the page, seeing the words, but not comprehending them in the slightest. Jason. He hasn’t seen or heard from his former TA in two weeks, not since he dropped him off at the coffee shop after the night he’d spent on his couch. He’d gone to his advisor that Monday and dropped the class, stating the hours as the reason and that he really thought an online course would be better for him. His advisor agreed and voila, Tim was no longer in Jason’s English 101 course. 

He gets that there needs to be a bit of time between his dropping the class and reaching out to the other man, but now that so much time has passed, he’s starting to doubt himself. Did he make the right choice? 

Kon and Kara, as well as the rest of his friends, think so. Kara had been unrepentant when Tim confronted her over stealing his phone while they were at the club that night, just as Kon was over texting Jason to come get him. 

“Just give it a little time,” Kara advised over lunch a few days after Tim had dropped the class. “A couple weeks to let the dust settle, then text him.” 

That couple weeks is up tomorrow as far as Tim’s concerned. His fingers have been itching to send a message _right now_ but he knows he needs to wait. 

Waiting sucks. 

The bell above the front door jingles as the door opens and Tim sets his tablet down next to the _Death Before Decaf_ sign he and the other baristas made for their side of the counter. Coffee without caffeine is simply a waste of coffee as far as they’re all concerned. 

“Welcome in,” he says as he stands up. “What can I make…” he trails off as he takes in who’s just entered. 

It’s Jason. 

He approaches the counter, dressed yet again all in black from his bartending job and wearing a leather jacket that Tim knows the feel of all too well. There’s that easy grin of his too and Tim feels his knees wobble slightly at the sight of it. 

“Hey,” Jason says as he reaches the counter. 

“H-Hi,” Tim manages to stutter out. He can feel his ears burning, just like they did that first night. 

“So how’s it been goin’? You get your new English class started?” 

A dozen different replies come to mind. Tim opens his mouth hoping something somewhat intelligent comes out. “Yeah, but it’s stupidly boring. No one seems to know how to hold a conversation in the discussion boards beyond ‘I agree!’” 

Jason’s lips quirk into a grin. “What are you reading?” 

Of course he’d want to know. His now _former_ TA is such a lit nerd. “Anthem.” 

The man’s eyes light up. “Oh man, you finish it yet? If I’ve learned anything about you from my class, it’s that you’re gonna shred it to pieces.” 

Tim laughs, finally feeling like he’s on solid ground again. “Yeah, I’m about halfway done. I read it in high school, so it’s more like refreshing my memory of why I hated this book with a passion.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks. “I mean, if you’re not doing anything tonight. We can go back to my place, I can make dinner, and we can talk dystopian futures, collectivism, and the use of personal pronouns.” 

There are quite a few other things Tim would rather be doing with Jason at his apartment, but he looks so damned excited at the prospect to discuss this book with him that he doesn’t have the heart to say no. 

“Fine, but if I have to stay up late and talk about a book, I’m bringing coffee.” 

*****

Dinner is good, even if it isn’t anything fancier than some ground beef, macaroni and cheese, and a bag of mixed vegetables tossed together (“Hamburger Helper, my way,” Jason says as he tosses it all together with a liberal application of seasonings). 

They argue about the book the entire time the meal was being prepared and through most of eating it too. At one point, Tim pulls out his phone and starts recording the conversation so he can use it for the paper he has to write next week. Jason laughs and rolls his eyes when he sees what Tim is doing. 

After dinner, they put a movie on and relax on the sofa. Tim isn’t paying any attention to the movie and has spent the first fifteen minutes strategizing on how to best kiss Jason. He’s worked out seven different ideas when Jason reaches over and pulls him close. 

“Neither of us really want to watch this, do we?” he asks with a cheesy grin. 

Tim had stiffened up as he was dragged over, but then takes advantage of his new position half sprawled over Jason’s chest to implement plan number three. “Nope,” he agrees and leans in, closing the gap between them. 

The first kiss is soft, tentative, a light brush of the lips as they feel each other out. The second one is better, the third even more amazing, and Tim stops counting after the fourth one. 

After the rather intense make-out session, Jason asks the all important question. “Do you want to stay the night?” 

It was already close to 2 in the morning. “Yeah,” Tim agrees, still breathing heavy from his explorations of Jason’s mouth, neck, and surrounding areas. “Your sofa’s not too bad.” 

“Who said anything about the sofa?” 

Jason retreats to the shower to clean up from his night at the bar while Tim makes use of the privacy in the living room to stick a hand down his pants and finish himself off. There is no doubt in his mind that Jason is doing the same in the shower. 

The full size bed is much too small for the two of them together, but with some judicious placement of arms and legs, they make it work. Tim doesn’t mind at all that he’s the little spoon, not if it means Jason’s muscular body is wrapped around him. There is one thing he notices right away. “You’re like a freaking space heater.” 

Behind him, he can feel Jason shrug. “I always run warm.” 

“I’ll remember that as it gets colder,” Tim yawns into the extra pillow Jason had taken out for him. “I freeze easily.” 

“If you’d get some meat on those skinny bones of yours, you wouldn’t have that problem.” 

True, Tim supposes, but he hates the gym. Although, he does have a better reason to go now as his imagination supplies a helpful image of Jason in his gym clothes and those shorts of his that _cling_ …“You’ll have to show me around the gym someday then. About the only thing I can do is ride a stationary bike.” 

Jason chuckles darkly into Tim’s hair and his arm tightens over his waist. “I can think of something else for you to ride, but I suppose we should work on your stamina first.” 

If that’s not a hint, then Tim doesn’t know what is. “You’re the one used to making lesson plans. Put together a schedule and some exercises for me.” 

There’s a loud bark of laughter from behind him as Jason chortles into his hair. “Just to be clear, we are talkin’ about the gym, right?” 

Tim turns his head to glance over his shoulder. “Sure,” he replies with a wicked smirk of his own. “I will need a demonstration of each exercise though. Just to make sure I have the form down.”

He may not have a great view of Jason’s face, but there’s no mistaking the tightening of his arm over his waist again as Jason closes the minute gaps between their bodies, leaving them completely flush against each other. “I’ll need to put you through your paces first,” he whispers in Tim’s ear. “Think you can handle that?” 

_Fuck, yes._ “Just say when.” 

“When.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the college/coffee shop AU! Maybe someday I'll turn it into a full fledged story, but for now, this is all she wrote. Also, I have a love/hate relationship with Anthem (and don't get me started on Heart of Darkness). Depends on the mood I'm in when I read it.
> 
> More coffee themed drabbles to come! I still have about ten or so to mess around with.


	29. The problem with coffee is trying to make it when you haven’t had any yet.

Tim has a routine for making coffee. It’s time honored and true and, for someone as meticulous as he is, the simplicity of it means he doesn’t have to _think_ about it when he stumbles into the kitchen each morning. 

Not thinking about it is quite possibly the most important part. 

The key to his routine is preparing everything the night before. Tim refuses to use a coffeemaker with a timer as he keeps all kinds of odd hours and the first cup of the day should be _fresh_ and not having sat in the pot for three hours before he eventually comes downstairs. 

Every night when he comes home from patrol, he washes up, then makes a beeline to the kitchen to get things ready for morning. The filter, and the coffee grounds, hell, even the water is poured into the little machine that gives him life so that all he has to do is push a button. 

It’s a big button too so he can’t miss it. 

But sometimes, life conspires against him and causes a hiccup in his routine, usually when someone else has to bring Tim’s injured or sick ass home, clean him up, and put him straight to bed. They don’t know about the routine. 

They don’t know how important it is. 

And when Tim comes stumbling down the stairs hours later, he’ll stand in the kitchen pressing the button futilely as he waits for the sound and scent of his coffee brewing. 

He’ll whine and sniffle, because now he has to _think_ before he’s had his coffee. It’s a real problem, trying to make coffee when you haven’t had any yet. 

Once he figures it out, and the first cup is consumed, coherent thought returns. Tim will then sit with his second cup and plot the downfall of whoever brought him home the night before.

 


	30. Coffee M&Ms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of the fact that I finally finished writing Milestones tonight, it's time for coffee! I've been trying very hard to focus on just that fic, so everything else kind of got pushed by the wayside. But now that I'm done... :D :D :D

The bag sits unopened on Tim's counter. He's had them for a few days now, a gag gift from Dick he'd received as part of his birthday present. 

Tim had never been much of one for candy (well, sort of; he loves taffy but with his lifestyle, healthy eating is a must), so it's just sat there since he returned home from the family dinner he got dragged to. It doesn't mean he's forgotten about them though. 

Coffee flavored M&Ms are right up his alley after all, just like the dark chocolate espresso beans Tam gives him sometimes as a bribe to get him to actually do work. They have an ongoing joke about Pavlovian training and how it works for people too. 

It's only after Tim drags himself home after a particularly rough day at WE that he decides to open the bag and give them a try. He could use the pick-me-up. 

They taste...interesting is the only way he can describe them. Peanut M&Ms but with a coffee flavor to them. Chocolate and coffee isn't necessarily a bad flavor (he's been known to splurge on an occasional mocha, which Steph always teases him about when he shamefacedly admits to it), but the peanut is throwing off the flavor. 

Just because he can, Tim takes a few downstairs to his lab to run a few tests. There's one big question that needs to be answered before he eats anymore. 

Are they caffeinated?

The answer comes back with a resounding no, so Tim decides to take the bag to work tomorrow and leave them on a table in one of the break rooms. They'll be devoured soon enough. 

He'll stick with his dark chocolate espresso beans. At least those passed his caffeine test. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not a meme, but a reader pointed out the existence of these and I knew Tim had to try them.


	31. I will drink you under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one night? :D

“Bring it on.” Jason glares challengingly at Tim. 

“You’re really daring me to do this?” the younger bird replies in disbelief. 

“You bet your ass I am. I will drink you under the table. Name your poison.” 

Tim gives his brother an assessing look, before glancing around to Dick and Stephanie to make sure they’re hearing this too. 

Steph grins viciously. She gets it. She hangs around him often enough that she _knows_. “Do it.” 

Dick’s a little more cautious, peacekeeper that he is. “Umm…you guys sure about this?” 

“Shut it, Dickface,” Jason snaps. “Baby bird started it, baby bird’s gonna finish it.” 

“Fine.” Tim stands abruptly, his chair falling to the floor he moves so quickly. “Be right back.” 

He leaves the dining room and heads to the kitchen. Alfred’s already started the evening pot of coffee. “Alfie, I’m going to need this entire pot and two mugs. Probably some cream and sugar.” He starts rifling through the cabinets to find two older mugs no one really likes. Chances are likely one of them will be destroyed very soon. 

The old butler raises an eyebrow, the only sign he’s surprised by Tim’s request as he knows the young man drinks it blacker than sin, much like Bruce. “Who else is sharing your evening cup?” 

Cup. Like he doesn’t know Tim’s capable of drinking the entire pot over the course of a few hours. 

“Jason.” 

The eyebrow rises even further, a second one joining it. “But Master Jason doesn’t drink coffee.” 

“Nope. That’s why he’ll need the cream and sugar.” 

“Dare I ask what’s going on out there?” Alfred casts a wary eye towards the dining room doors.

“Best not to, but Dick and Steph are supervising.” He finally finds two mugs that meet his criteria. An old Scooby Doo mug from who the hell knows where and a Beauty and the Beast coffee mug that Tim’s pretty certain was a gag gift from Dick to Barbara a couple years ago. How it ended up back in the kitchen at the Manor, he’s not sure. 

“That’s supposed to reassure me?” the butler comments, but gets up from his evening tea to take the creamer out of the fridge. “Considering this is Master Jason, I’ll dispense with the niceties. You’ll be lucky if he pours even a quarter of a cup of coffee into his mug.” 

“If he does that, then he’ll lose.” Tim’s grin is so sharp it would make a great white shark jealous. 

He pulls out a tray, grabs a hot pad for the coffee carafe (Alfred won’t appreciate the hot pot directly on the dining room table) and sets down his mugs. Before he has a chance to look, Alfred hands him a small box of sugar cubes. “If there’s any mess, I expect you to clean it up, Master Tim.” 

“Of course, Alfie,” Tim agrees without missing a beat. 

“I assume this is a bet?” 

“Not exactly,” Tim hedges as he places everything on the tray, remembering a spoon at the last second. “Jason called me a lightweight. I told him to where to shove it. And he dared me to a drinking contest.” 

“I doubt this is the kind of beverage he had in mind,” Alfred replies dryly, but his eyes are sparkling with laughter. 

“Nope, but he did say it was my choice. If he makes it past the first pot, I’ll let you know and we can break out the kahlua.” Another sharp grin and Tim picks up his tray. 

As he leaves the kitchen, he hears Alfred chuckling behind him. It’s always a good day when he can make the old man laugh. 

Jason looks horrified by what he sees coming towards the table. “No. Fuck no.” 

Dick, however, starts laughing as he finally understands the shared look earlier between Tim and Stephanie. “You agreed, Little Wing! Tim’s choice. You didn’t specify it had to be booze.” 

“I thought it was fucking understood!” 

“Never assume anything,” Stephanie chortles, her entire body quivering with glee. “You what they say about that!” 

Tim sets down the tray and shoves the creamer and sugar over to Jason. “For each quarter of the mug that’s taken up by creamer, that’s an extra quarter cup of coffee you have to drink to match mine.” 

He picks up the pot of coffee and fills the Beauty and the Beast mug and sits down next to Steph. Dick plays his part and pulls the tray across the table to where he and Jason are sitting. 

Jason stares at the tray like he’s going to be sick. “You fucking suck, Replacement.” 

“Noted.” Tim picks up his mug and waits while Dick prepares Jason’s coffee, making sure to keep the amount of creamer at less than the specified quarter of the mug. 

“At least you don’t have to chug,” Steph chimes in helpfully. 

“I fucking hate all of you,” Jason retorts as he takes the mug, making a disgusted face that wouldn’t look out of place on a disgruntled toddler at being told to eat his vegetables.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that are wondering, Tim wins, even after they break into the kahlua. :P


	32. Life begins after coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to rhubarbpie for this idea! I couldn't quite get the tea towel to work, but the phrase stuck in my head all evening!

Dick leans in closely, staring first at Tim, then at the mug in front of him that he’s been staring intently into for the last few minutes without drinking from it. “Tim, what are you doing?”

“…shhh…”

Jason’s been flicking crumbs from his toast at Tim for the past couple minutes, but hasn’t gotten a reaction either. “Tim, the coffee isn’t going to reveal the answer to the ultimate question.”

“…42…”

“Dammit.”

Bruce tries a more direct route. “Tim, son, please. Stop staring at your coffee like that.”

“…shhh…"

“You’re scaring Damian.”

“No, he’s not.” Damian sniffs disdainfully and looks away from the sight, but it’s like a car wreck. He can’t _not_ watch it happening.

“Nice try, B,” Jason smirks.

Bruce tries again. “How late were you up this morning?”

“This morning?” Dick asks.

Damian snorts. “Think about it.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.”

Alfred finally chimes in as he brings a plate of freshly cut fruit to the dining room table. “Master Tim, either drink it or pour it out. For once, you’ve had enough sleep that you shouldn’t need to play these games.”

Tim looks up from his coffee, one of those little smirks of his appearing on his face. “You’re taking all the fun out of this, Alfred.”

“You’re disturbing your family.”

Tim finishes his coffee with a flourish and grins at his dumbfounded family. “Life begins after coffee!” He grabs some pineapple and dashes off.

“What just happened?” Bruce asks, not quite believing what Tim just did at 8 o’clock in the morning.

Alfred picks up Tim’s empty coffee mug. “With Miss Cassandra’s assistance, we gave Master Tim decaf and a sedative last night. If you recall, it was his night off.”

Cassandra, who’s been sitting quietly observing this entire time, reaches out for some cantaloupe and grins. “He was working cold cases.”

Jason looks disbelievingly at Cass and Alfred. “You know he’s going to plot your demise now, right?”

“He will try.” The way the former assassin says it sounds like a promise.

But it’s Alfred who gets the last word. “If he tries to implement anything, I will simply remind him who does the grocery shopping around here.”

 


	33. There is no life without water. Because water is needed to make coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I haven't updated this in forever. Oops. Have a real drabble!

This isn’t happening. No, no, _no, NO._

But it is. It’s the worst thing to happen to him this week. Month. Okay, _year_. And that’s saying something as a lot of shitty things have happened this year. 

It’s the end of the world. 

Tim lets out a little moan and stares pathetically at the water faucet. He paid good money for the top of the line filtration system that allows him to drink what passes for tap water in Gotham. Not that he drinks it straight, oh no. It gets heated to a boil when he uses it to make his coffee. 

But right now, there is no water. Not even a drip. 

He scrambles for the fridge. Bottled water. He has bottled water. 

Empty shelves stare back at him, blinding in their barrenness. Tim closes the door and opens it again, hoping against hope that some magic will bring him water. 

It doesn’t. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers he’s supposed to go grocery shopping today. He even made a list. 

Tim sinks to his knees and stares blankly at the tile. 

There is no life without water. Because water is needed to make coffee.


	34. No Murder Before 6am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For charcoal-soul over on Tumblr. I swear, you are my muse sometimes.

Tim is warm. And comfortable. A case could even be made for perfect comfy, but the bed shifts under him as someone gets up. Or crawls in. It's early (late?) and he refuses to open his eyes because _comfy._

He shivers as a breath of cold air hits him and those are _freezing cold feet_ against his calf. Jerking hard, Tim rolls over and away from the offending limbs and tugs the blankets around him more tightly.

"Come on, Timmy," Jason breathes quietly, running icy fingers over his hair. _Dammit_. "Share the warmth?"

"You're _freezing_ ," Tim mutters. How is that possible? Jason usually runs warmer than a thermal blanket.

"It's below freezing outside and it's raining. Do the math."

It's too early ( _late??_ ) for math. His brain hurts. He doesn't want to think.

"Go away. Cold."

"Aw, that's not very nice, Timmers." Jason tugs at the blankets. Tim tugs back. "If you let me under there, I'll warm up faster."

Words are hard, so he just growls as Jason wins and wraps his freezing body around Tim. Jason is evil. Horrible. Why is he dating this man? What is wrong with his brain that he thinks the icicle next to him is a potential life partner?

"Now that's really not nice, Tim," Jason comments as he rearranges the covers over the top of them. "It's not even four in the morning and you're plotting my second demise? Remember the rules?"

Tim sighs and gives up. The man behind him is already warming up, even though his feet are still _freezing ass cold_. "No murder before six am and two cups of coffee," he dutifully recites.

Jason kisses the top of his head, his breath warm against his hair. "That's right. Now go back to sleep."

He can do that.


	35. You stare at your coffee hoping it gives you perspective and sanity and the ability to make sense of it all and that’s a lot to ask of your coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's baaaaaaack...

Tim's tired. Which is not an unusual state for him, not really, when one considers how often he burns the candle at both ends. WE during the day, vigilantism at night, and somewhere in between he tries to fit in college classes because he has a _plan_ and won't be persuaded from it, long term though it is.   
  
Jason appreciates his goal. He _gets_ it. Of course, he always appreciates a plan where Damian or Bruce are getting the shaft, but that’s beside the point.   
  
But sometimes, there are days where even coffee doesn’t help. Those are days Tim loathes because that means it’s time for him to drop something, even though he doesn’t have the time to do so. Most often, it’s patrol, his only chance for fresh air and exercise after a long day of dealing with one bullshit thing after another. It’s not fair that he has to be the responsible one, the one that keeps the family business afloat so that some enterprising soul doesn’t accidently discover just how much money gets siphoned off into Batman or Justice League related projects. The R &D budget is _massive_.

But none of this is helping Tim’s current predicament. Sleep is needed tonight, not more coffee, which means the drug delivery he was planning to bust later isn’t happening. At least by him. He grumbles as he picks up his phone and taps in the number for the current burner Jason is using. 

“How the hell do you keep getting my number, Timmers?” Jason only sounds pissed. Really. 

“How else do I ever find out anything?” Tim retorts, balancing the phone against his shoulder as he starts replying to a rather important email in his inbox. He silently curses not having his hands-free headset but putting Jason on speaker is out of the question. “Listen, I need a favor.” 

“I should say no.” 

“You’ll get to shoot something.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Tim outlines the information and Jason chortles gleefully when he learns he gets to mess with Black Mask. “I think he’s overdue for another RPG into his office, whaddya think?” 

“Whatever rocks your world,” Tim replies, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The text on the screen in front of him is blurry, even with his glasses. He’s aware he just gave Jason carte blanche to do whatever he wants, but right now, Tim has no more fucks to give. _None._ All gone. Poof. 

“An RPG will rock his,” Jason says decisively. “Get some fucking sleep tonight, Timbo. You can’t live on coffee.” 

“I can try.” It must sound as petulant as Tim thinks it does because all Jason does is laugh and hang up on him. 

This is why he prefers to deal with computers. They don’t make fun of his habits. Or laugh at him. In fact, he'd have to say that computers are perfect because they only do what they're programmed to do.

And now Tim _knows_ he needs to call it a day. After he finishes this email because while he has talk to text on this computer, he’s pretty sure he’ll say the wrong thing and send it anyway. Telling a board member to suck it instead of explaining why his proposal is shit just takes so much less time though... Tim picks up his coffee and stares into the depths, hoping it gives him some perspective and sanity and the ability to make sense of it all, but it doesn’t. Because that’s a lot to ask of his coffee.

 


	36. How to Summon Me on a Monday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this on Tumblr last month and forgot to post it here! Oops! For addie-lover-of-stories!

It started off as a joke. But then, as all jokes do with them, it spiraled out of control.

“You’re kidding,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the grimoire. “Do I even want to know how you two came up with this?”

“Nope,” Jason replied. He was busy making coffee. Five different roasts, four of which have flavored creamer added to them while the fifth was left blacker than sin.

“And this is specifically for Mondays.” The disbelief was palpable.

“Yep.” Jason arrayed the last mug on the silver tray. “You got the coffee beans and the empty pot?”

Dick shook his head but collected the last items for the spell anyway. “I swear, this is the most ridiculous summoning I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re the one who needs Tim right now, not me.” Jason much preferred the spell to summon Tim on a Friday night. That one was  _fun_.

“He’s not answering his phone,” Dick tried to defend himself as they walk outside and onto the veranda. “And I know better than to even attempt breaking into his apartment.”

“Just remember that you have to explain all this to him when he gets here.” Jason set down his tray and took the bag of coffee beans from Dick. Ripping open the bag, he carefully poured them into a circle, then used the rest to form a five pointed star.

“If it wasn’t important, I’d let him sleep. He never gets enough.”

Truth. Tim often burned the midnight oil for days on end. Jason had lost count of how many times he’d found him faceplanted at his worktable, spell components and pages of scribbles laying around him.

He gestured for the tray and Dick brought him the different coffee cups, each one getting placed at a point on the star. The empty pot went in the middle.

“You’d think the pot would have to be full,” Dick commented after he studied the array.

“Tim lands in the middle of the circle. The first time we tried this, he burned himself.”

Dick snorted, trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. “Okay, I’ll grant you that. What’s next?”

Jason ignored his older brother and picked up the grimoire Tim had made for him. All the spells here were keyed to Jason, so it wasn’t as though anyone else could use it. Tim was a warlock of considerable, if somewhat erratic, power but Jason was a summoner of the highest order. He went through with this charade because it was funny; if he really wanted Tim here ASAP, he’d just reach out and grab his skinny wrist and yank him through the ether.

Flipping through the book, Jason found the spell he was looking for. He didn’t need it, but there was a certain formality to be observed. The page read  _How to Summon Me on a Monday Morning_ and had a few instructions on it, including the coffee offering.

Jason set the book next to him and knelt outside the circle. He pressed his fingers against the coffee beans and searched inside himself, finding the wellspring of power within his soul. Bringing it forth, the energy flowed from his fingertips and crackled along the edges of the circle, tracing each line and filling the empty coffeepot in the center.

“Wake the fuck up, Tim,” Jason intoned. “I made you coffee.”

The circle flared and then Tim was there, still curled up tight and sound asleep. He had on sleep pants for a change.

Behind him, Dick didn’t even try to hide his laughter anymore. “That’s it? That’s the summoning spell?”

Jason stood and dusted off his knees. “Yup, that’s the one for Monday mornings, at least.” He nudged aside some of the coffee beans with his foot, breaking the circle. “I brought him here, now you get to deal with the fallout. Good luck waking him up.”

Even in his sleep, Tim was already inching towards the black coffee.

Shaking his head, Jason picked up the book and went back inside the manor. Yeah, he much preferred the Friday night summoning spell. That one involved ropes.

 


End file.
